


two and two equals four

by pumpkin_patch



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Avengers - Freeform, Multi, Spideypool - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkin_patch/pseuds/pumpkin_patch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Steve have been searching for a child to adopt for a long time now; they have visited several orphanages and children’s homes, but so far they hadn’t had any success. They have talked to and played with a lot of children of all ages, nations, skin colors, hell even disabilities, but none was quite what… they’ve been looking for.</p><p>Okay, Tony has to admit, putting it like that might sound a bit harsh. In fact, it does sound very unfair and egoistic when you put it that way. However, Tony and Steve live their lives as Iron Man and Captain America, and having a child under these kind of circumstances brings great responsibility. </p><p> </p><p>Here's a superfamily fic in which Steve and Tony adopt Pete when he's around the age of sixteen. </p><p>They didn't know he is Spider-Man though.</p><p>ALSO: Wanda and Pietro are part of the Avengers in this fic Yaaay :3</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The walls of the orphanage are painted in a slightly worn off white, the color radiating coldness and discomfort, fatuity and monotony. It is an awful place for children to grow up; although they all have their own colorful rooms and a huge green garden providing them more than enough space to play, the whole building lacks comfort and freedom, the adjectives describing it best would probably be restriction, indifference and loneliness.

Steve and Tony’s footsteps echo back from he long narrow corridor as they walk through, the sound only adding to the weird feeling creeping upon the couple. Tony can clearly see the discomfort being reflected in his lovers face whenever the super solider thinks about all the parentless children having to live in a place like this instead of a warm loving family with a proper accommodation.

The couple has been searching for a child to adopt for a long time now; they have visited several orphanages and children’s homes, but so far they hadn’t had any success. They have talked to and played with a lot of children of all ages, nations, skin colors, hell even disabilities, but none was quite what… they’ve been looking for.

Okay, he has to admit, putting it like that might sound a bit harsh. In fact, it does sound very unfair and egoistic when you put it that way. However, Tony and Steve live their lives as Iron Man and Captain America, and having a child under these kind of circumstances brings great responsibility.

Whenever the couple sets out on a mission, their lives are on the line, hell, their lives are in danger constantly even when they aren’t on the battlefield. Of course Steve and Tony would never want their child to be mentally damaged because of their ‚professions‘; always having to think about their dads potentially dying every minute can severely damage a child’s mental health and affect their wellbeing gradually.

Concealing and keeping quiet about what happens as soon as they leave the Stark Tower in full armor isn’t an option either; building a family upon lies is out of question.

Long story short, in order to ensure the child’s wellbeing, he or she has to be able to deal with the fact his or her fathers are superheroes and has to have a strong mind so he or she can stand the constant worry nibbling at the back of his or her mind.

However, qualities equal to described ones are incredibly hard to find and, as much as it hurts to turn down a four year old little girl whose parents have abandoned her and left her at a bus station in the rain, being ready, mature and strong enough is necessary for being a stable happy little family with people like the Avengers.

Steve and Tony feel unbelievably bad every time they leave a child behind, knowing they would probably have to wait a long time until the next opportunity for adoption arrives. Not being able to give the children a new, better life is especially upsetting for Steve, there is a deep furrow where his pale eyebrows are knitted together and his hands are flexing at his sides.

„Don’t worry, honey.“ Tony mumbles and takes the super solider’s larger hand into his, reassuringly stroking the back of it with his thumb. „I know how you feel, but we can’t just randomly save all of the kids here, okay? You want our future child to be happy too, don’t you? And so far we haven’t come across anybody who would fit, there is no helping it.“

Steve sighs and melts into the touch, intervening their arms further. „I know, I know, but I still dislike the idea…“ He pauses to stifle a yawn with his other hand. „Of leaving these children behind.“

They continue their walk through the maze of corridors towards the exit in silence, conversation between them seldom needing words. They are happy about the lack of people in the orphanage around this time, because although Steve is wearing a dark blue baseball cap pulled down to hide his face partially and Tony has thrown on a heavy sweater to block out the permanent glow of his arc rector, being recognized is a hassle and a thing they would like to avoid.

A few stories and turns later, they finally reach ground level. Tony breathes an internal sigh of relief. Although he would never admit it, this place is starting to freak him out. It reminds him much about his own childhood, the distant, heartless atmosphere reminding him of his relationship with Howard Stark, the interior almost scarily resembling the boarding school he was shoved off to as soon as he was old enough. It stirs up old memories inside of him, good ones and bad ones, but it doesn’t matter; he has been doing such a good job at repressing every single one of them until now, a place like this actually shouldn’t be a problem to him.

Turning around a corner, there suddenly is a crash and a surprised yelp when something - or rather somebody- bumps into Steve with full speed and hits the floor, skidding a few feet away before coming to a halt. Steve also makes a small stunned noise in the back of his throat, it’s not like the impact moved the super solider more than an inch, however it seemed to come out of nowhere, there were absolutely not footsteps to be heard.

The two superheroes twirl around. A boy with a messy shock of dark brown hair is lying on the ground, his backpack has been tossed to the ground as well, resting against the wall. His clothes are old and barely fit, his ankles peeking out beneath the hem of his jeans.

He is shielding his head with his hands and instinctively curls up into a tight ball on the ground as if he expected something to harm him.

„Please, I am so sorry, I know I am past my curfew again, but _please_ , there was really no way I could’ve come back earlier this time! I swear, I tried!“ He says, no, pleads, his voice trembling and his body language growing even more defensive.

Steve and Tony exchange a look and Steve walks up to the boy and crouches down next to him. He is around the age of sixteen, seventeen tops and he is lean but not thin; to Tony’s surprise, he even has some muscle. Steve lays a hand onto the boy’s shoulder, but he finches away like he’d been electrolyzed, shuffling backwards with remarkable speed until his back hits the wall.

„We are not from the orphanage.“ Steve says, his voice calm and reassuring, and he lifts his hands to show the teenager he wants no evil. „Who are you?“

„What do you want?“ The boy snaps, almost hisses, hoisting himself into standing position with ease. His brown eyes are hard and cold and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept very much and regularly recently.

„Do the staff here harm you? You seemed very defensive…“ Tony states and takes a step closer as well, earning an almost non audible scoff from Steve. Yeah, fine, tact has never been one of his many great strengths, but he is curious, dammit!

The boy rolls his eyes and groans, rubbing his hand over the side of his face. „Really, are you from the police or something? Checking up this lousy place? Putting your stamp on? I really think you should go now, gentleman, there is nothing to see here.“ He sighs flatly, the waver in his voice however slightly betraying his sassy response. He must be tired or exhausted. No wonder, it is almost eleven and the majority of children should probably be in bed by now.

„You look tired, are you okay? Do you need any help?“ The blonde asks and Tony groans internally. Steve is going into mother hen mode again. As if _that_ would change anything.

„There seriously is now way I am going to tell you, even if I actually _had_ these kind of issues.“ The boy replies in a typical teenager-bored-why-aren’t-you-leaving-me-alone-tone, crossing his arms in front of his chest to look deprecatory, however Tony can see come of the coolness has disappeared from his doe eyes. _Damn, Steve_. How on earth did that work?

„Please, just leave me alone, I’m just gonna sneak back into my room and hope I can avoid being noticed by anybody, seriously no big deal. Why do you bother talking to me anyway? I only have to wait about one and a half years until I can do what I want, and by then, I’m out of here. Just get on with your meeting with some cute little toddler and forget I ever crossed your path.“ He says, and there is something off bout his voice, maybe hurt? Jealousy? Hate?

„Kid, I know this isn’t the best place on earth and your life is probably pretty fucked up, but there is no need to-

„WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?“ The teenager snaps, his voice so loud it could almost count as screaming. His voice is quite high, considering he is nearing the age of seventeen, but he makes up for it in volume. „How would you ever know how shitty life here is? How would you ever know about the pain of not having parents? How would-

„SHUT IT, KID.“ Tony says so low and controlled the brunette instinctively turns quiet and gulps. The engineer finds himself gripping the boy’s shirt by the collar and is twisting it in an iron grip, almost strangling the younger man with it. Their faces are only inches apart. Usually, Tony wouldn’t loose his shit on a little provocation by a teenager, but spending time in all these orphanages has let his carefully constructed walls around his childhood crumble.

„Don’t ever assume people would not know about the pain of your situation.“ He literally snarls, baring his teeth.

„Oh, and you claim to do?“ The teen, now with a steady, sure look shoots back. „You look like you have been spoiled you whole life, lived in a big fancy mansion and threw money at every problem so it would solve itself somehow. How on earth would you understand a person who has lost everything? You are just-

„My mother died of a heart attack when I was small but old enough to understand she would never be there again. My father was a wealthy and hard working man, however that doesn’t mean he had a heart. He sent me off to boarding school as soon as I was old enough so he wouldn’t have to bear with me at home. Do you know how many days a year I spend at school? 364 out of 365. The one day I returned home was my fucking birthday and even then the heartless bastard didn’t bother to show up. I didn’t have anything my whole life.“ He spits, and the boy’s face pales.

„Tony–“ Steve begins, but once Tony has started, he doesn’t stop, even if it means him causing more damage (with the boy) that would have been necessary. Not wanting Steve to be upset, he forces his anger down and settles for a slightly gentler tone. „So what I’m saying is: Don’t be all snarky and unfriendly to people you know nothing about, kid, sure you’re going through rough times here and I shouldn’t have gotten all worked up here - look, I’m even grabbing your collar here, isn’t this ridiculous - but what I mean is that although you might not think about it when you first meet people, everyone on this planet has had some dark spots in their lives and can understand you. I’m not saying you have no right to complain about it, just don’t let it out on others. There are plenty of people who are sensitive about their pasts just like you.“

Tony can feel a worn smile spread across his face, so open and wide it makes his beard tickle in the dimples of his cheeks; It is a smile he usually only smiles when Steve is around. Huh. Weird.

To his horror, however, the teen has started cracking up, tears are pricking on his waterlines. He wipes them away harshly as if he was angry about them sliding down his cheeks.

And then Steve is to the rescue, he hugs the brunette without hesitation, wrapping his strong muscular arms around the teen’s thin frame. Tony rolls his eyes at the scene and Steve sticks his tongue back out at the Iron Man. The boy reluctantly leans into the embrace and shifts a little to find a comfortable place to rest his head on.

„You’re right, old man, I shouldn’t have insulted you… It’s just hard to repress your feelings for such a long time and then bam! Something triggers them and you have no idea what to do else than burst. I really miss them though.“ His voice cracks and with this factor of cuteness added to the already overloaded adorable scene, even Tony can’t resist to place his hand onto the lanky teen’s shoulder.

„It’s alright, kid… Wait, did you just call me old?“

„Pff, obviously.“ The kid snorts into Steve’s muscled chest, who is still holding him like a mother her child.

„I am not old at all.“ Tony protests, crossing his arms over his chest. „I am an eternal blossom of youth. Like, Steve there, the guy who is cradling you like one overprotective momma is literally twice my age.“

„Tony…“ Steve sighs and presses a hand to his eyes.

„In mental maturity I can believe that.“ Wow. Sass has reached a new level here.

Tony pretends to be offended and clutches his chest by the arc reactor. He lets out a pitiful whine for good measure and buries himself in Steve’s arm.

„He’s being mean to me again, Steve! Do something~ I need your comfort. Hug me. I said hug meeeee.“

„Oh my god no group hugs, I am so outta here.“ The teen laughs, playfully freeing himself out of the awkward hug. Still chuckling, he bends down and lifts his backpack from the ground and attempts to say goodbye and leaves when Steve and Tony exchange a meaningful glance.

There is something about this kid, something that makes him different from the others, makes him stand out. Tony can’t quite describe it, it is like… He just fits with them perfectly, it feels like he is the missing gear to complete their little clockwork of a complete little family and make it work. Steve smiles and nods, the conversation not requiring words.

„Hey, wait up! Would you tell us your name please?“ Steve asks quickly before the boy can leave, causing him to stop in his tracks. „Of course only if you want to.“ He adds. Always polite. Always careful. Steve.

„It’s Peter Parker.“ He says, suddenly turning shy again, eying them suspiciously.

„Well then, Peter, how does the idea of moving in with us sound?" Tony asks bluntly.

„What.“ The teenage boy’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. „Tell me this is real and you are not shitting me here. Cause if this is some kind of joke I gonna be hella pissed.“

„Why would we joke, Peter?“ Steve says, his perfect teeth flashing.

„Would you like to be adopted by us? I know we only met a few minutes ago but… I mean only if you’d like to. How about we meet tomorrow again and you tell us what you think?“

„Uh…Okay?“ Peter says, a little delayed and absentmindedly, hoisting his backpack a little higher onto his shoulder. „I… Uh… Of course why not, feel free to visit me, but listen I really gotta be going now, you know, I really don’t want the guys catching me wandering around past my curfew, it’ll only result in punishment, and anger, the usual stuff. Anyway, t’was really, really nice spending time with you guys, see ya tomorrow and bye!“ He salutes and dashes off the corridor into the direction Steve and Tony came from, and the two Avengers don’t miss the adorable skip in his walk.

As soon as Peter is out of earshot, Tony chuckles and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, leaning his head against his lover’s broad shoulder.

„Look at what you run into in a godforsaken place like this.“ He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against his husband’s.

„He is amazing, isn’t he?“ Steve replies, sliding his hands up Tony’s sides.

„Yeah, I noticed tight away.“ And that comment makes Stave laugh out loud, one of the sunny, warm laughs that caused Tony to fall in love with him.

„What the hell were you thinking when you started shouting at the kid? Really, you don’t just get all worked up with somebody you have never never net before!“

„I don’t know, honey, I just kind of had to, maybe it was one of my weird inner uncontrollable reflexes?“ He sighs, gently freeing himself. „He’s kinda… like me in a way, you know? It was the look in his eyes that made me recognize he is just the way I have been in my entire childhood. I would recognize those eyes anywhere, they are those I used to see in the mirror every day back then.“ He leans against the wall opposite heavily and rakes his hands through his hair wearily. The past is catching up to him again, making the genius look a few years older than he actually is.

„It’s just… When I was young, there was nobody who would ever give me the chance to realize I have taken my grief and issues out on others, and if only one person would have ever said, hey, Tony, stop drinking and sleeping around, stop messing with others, I might would have learned the easier way. I think maybe we could be the ones guiding peter into a new, better life. Sure, we are not what people would would consider normal, but still, I think we could make it work– Hey Steve? Oh my god please don’t.“

Tony’s jaw drops when he sees that Steve is totally touched by Tony’s ramble.

„It is nice that you finally talk about you past. Maybe being more open about it will slowly cure your demons?“ He wonders as they slowly start walking towards the reception.

„Aww come on, Steve, stop ruining the mood with my stupid childhood. We just got ourselves a son. A freaking son! Stop being all negative and enjoy the feeling of becoming a parent!“ Tony says and skips towards the reception to make an appointment for the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> Here's the second chapter! 
> 
> Wow, I really managed to write this one quickly! I hope it doesn't lack quality though :O If it does, please tell me! I am a huge fan of constructive criticism! :P
> 
> Also, I was genuinely surprised the fist chapter of this fic got so many hits and nice comments! It really made my day :)
> 
> Anyhoo, enough of my babbling, enjoy!!!

Peter gazes out of the window of Tony’s elegant high-tech car, watching the colorful and vibrant specs of the New York Skyline pass by in a rapid, fast blur. Seeing the familiar buildings and areas again fills him with happiness and facility and keeps down the occasional tingles of excitement sparking through his chest. 

The almost-seventeen-year-old still can’t quite get a grasp on the situation he is currently in. He would have never dreamed of somebody ever wanting to adopt him. 

Unlike the other children in the orphanage, Peter probably has all the qualities children-searching parents are definitely not looking for. He isn’t young, he isn’t especially nice and friendly to others and he has been blessed with the rare talent so get into trouble 24/7. Additionally, a lot of people dislike his sassy attitude; also the tales of his newest misbehaviors as well as his bad reputation have made it’s way through the orphanage, letting the Staff and other children scoff and frown whenever somebody brought up ‚the Parker child‘.

It had genuinely surprised him that Steve and Tony (and Jesus, how familiar those names are) agreed to take him in. It was like a dream come true. Peter never knew his real parents; when he was very young, they left him for reasons unclear until this day, however uncle hinted they were involved into sone extraordinary scientific experiment and were obligated to leave the country. 

They died in a plane crash and his aunt and uncle decided to raise him so he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his childhood in an orphanage or else. (‚Worked out well‘, he sometimes thought bitterly while staring at the bare white walls of his room, fists shaking from grief.)

They were friendly and warm hearted, and young Peter soon didn’t feel much of the painful sting in his chest whenever he thought about his real parents dying anymore. 

You could say time had healed his wounds, but time can only heal to a certain level, the rest has to be done by the wounded person itself. Closing up the gashes loss has left behind can only be done properly if you contribute to it out of your own will.

Although May and ben were the best parents Peter could ever have wished for, –they guided him through life the best they could, provided him with everything he needed, and raised him as if he was their very child– the question of who his real parents were constantly started bugging him as he grew older, the fact he didn’t know who they were bothering him more and more every day. 

His uncle and aunt never answered the several questions he asked them, heir faces only twisting with sorrow and grief as a reply whenever he breached the topic. The gaping hole slowly but steadily forming in his chest could never quite be filled, no matter how much genuine love and appreciation aunt May and uncle Ben would show him. 

The relationship between them slowly became unstable and insecure over the years, steadily driving them further apart. 

Then, one day, Peter remembers it like it was yesterday, his uncle died in an incident where a drunk man stabbed him in both kidneys. He had no chance of surviving, he died almost instantly. Ben's passing away was a great shock to both Peter and May, leaving deep, heavily bleeding scars in their hearts that would not heal for a very long time. 

They lived on together somehow, trying to pretend their life would return to normality again, but the missing presence of Ben has ever since lingered in the house everywhere, in the shelves, on the several pieces of old furniture, even in the bathroom where the man would perform his usual daily routine and delay everybody. 

Life constantly got got harder and more difficult; Aunt May had to work harder and harder in order to provide Peter the same standards he had before, which included paying for school, food and rent among a lot of other things. 

She started overworking herself, taking one graveyard shift after the other and working considerably longer every day. Her health suffered heavily under the conditions she was forcing herself to work under and one day Peter found her lying in her bed motionless, her glassy eyes wide open while staring at the ceiling lifelessly. 

He called ambulance instantly, although he already knew what they were going to tell him. 

Deceased from heart attack. Probably died around midnight. We’re sorry kid. Do you have any remaining relatives?

Do you have any remaining relatives. 

That was the question that would doom his life for the next years. They took him to the police and after they couldn’t find anybody he was related to by blood. That was how he ended up in the orphanage. 

At first he was reluctant and disliked the idea, but it was either running off and having to live as a homeless child or actually having a roof above his head with people that had to ensure his wellbeing until he turned eighteen. So he decided to move into the orphanage. He knew his aunt and uncle would have wanted it this way. 

In the orphanage, or hell, he would very soon cause trouble and the other children started avoiding him, as if the know there was something different about him, like they knew he lived a secret life as Spider-Man at night. The elder ones started bullying him and generally everyone always picked on him, the custodians seldom trying to avoid it, probably thinking he deserved it. 

Always returning past his curfew –well, crimes tended to happen in the evening or night– didn’t help winning the favors of the people either. 

All in all, he was a pain in the ass to everyone, and they hated him. 

Until two days ago. His Spidey-sense has set off quite randomly in the evening, like it always does, so of course he quickly suited up and rushed off to prevent some amateur burglars from breaking into a cheep ass place or something. 

It could have been an easy-peasy job like it was most of the time, but nooooooo. 

Of course the incident had to be two kidnappers trying to take two little children as hostage in order to kidnap the husband of a wealthy woman, probably to demand a high ransom. They were armed as to the teeth and it took him three plus hours to save the day and in the end he found himself running through the corridors of the orphanage as fast as he could. 

He has been so deep in thoughts about hatching a plan how he wouldn’t get caught so that he didn’t notice two men standing right around the corner. He, of course, had to run straight into one of them at full speed, the impact with the muscular blonde sending him crashing to the ground. 

In that particular moment he asked himself what his god damned Spider-sense was actually good for. Why the hell was he Spiderman if he couldn’t predict a collision with an other human being?

He tried to flee from the scene as fast as he could, but noooo, again. 

The blonde started asking him questions and short after, he found himself involved in a bitch fight with the shorter brunette which ended in kind of a… feelings jam? However, it didn't annoy him as much as it should have, it felt natural, familiar, special. He found himself enjoying to piss the brunette off and actually being pretty okay with the motherly ministrations of the blonde. 

When they eventually asked him if he would like being adopted, he was speechless, unbelieving even. He brushed it off as a joke first, telling himself it was just wishful thinking on his part, but Steve and Tony visited him the next day, having set up an appointment to get to know Peter better fight after they met the day before. 

He learned Tony was quite skilled at mechanics and tended to overwork himself, also he apparently was a extreme caffeine addict and wouldn’t survive a day without. Steve, according to Tony, was an over protective mother hen with a choice ass who can cook and clean and drag Tony to bed when he passes out in his workshop, the comment having earned Tony an actual slap from the muscular guy. 

They chattered about this and that, but Peter could never quite shake off the feeling that they were withholding him a big part of their life, the way they tiptoed around certain topics made him kind of suspicious. 

Not that he could blame them. He wasn’t exactly shouting out the fact that he was Spider-Man, either. He was not very keen on telling them right away, it would only scare them away or make things awkward and Peter didn’t want to risk that. 

The couple signed off a lot of papers and paid some money and shoved Peter into into the white leather seat of a very expensive and extravagant car in order to bring him to his new home. 

The orphanage is located somewhere in the suburbs, far away from Manhattan where Steve and Tony’s home is located. („We live quite central, I guess. Like, uh… Manhattan…? Do we live in Manhattan, Steve? Yeah Manhattan.“ Tony said.). Peter was looking forward to living there, it made fighting crimes so much easier and quicker. He wouldn’t have to waste so much time actually getting to the crime scene like he always had to before. 

He studies the two men’s faces as they drive through New York, Steve bickering about Tony driving at break neck speed and Tony constantly failing the attempt to place his hand on Steve’s thigh, which makes the blonde blush and mutter something about ‚not in front of the kid‘.

It bothers Peter though. Not the way the two are acting, noooo, Peter is practically melting on the backseat here because of all the adorableness taking place in front of him; it is the constant feeling that they seem so familiar to him, it just doesn’t want to let go of his brain. Just where did he see the two before? God, dammit, he can’t remember. He searches every inch of his brain for any little evidence, but of course the little shit can’t find anything. Sighing deeply, he leans back into the soft leather again, enjoying the feeling of his spine sinking into the soft material.

Steve and Tony are arguing in the front again, however this time, their voices are muffled and rather serious than playful. 

„Is everything alright?“ Peter asks, leaning forward and poking his head through the two front seats curiously. Both men jerk violently and Tony lets out a shrill little shriek, causing the car to almost drive up the sidewalk. He hits the brakes and the car comes to a halt. 

„Jesus Christ, Pete, I don’t wanna see my father in hell!“ Tony breathes, unclenching his hands from the steering wheel and rubbing them to stimulate the blood circulation in his fingers again. 

„Sorry.“ Peter says, suddenly feeling bad. „But seriously, is there something wrong?“

„Yes.“ Says Tony. „No.“ Says Steve. 

„Jinx.“ 

„We didn’t even say the same thing!“ They both laugh and Steve opens the door on his side.

„Why don’t we discuss this outside?“ Steve suggests and a triumphant smile directed at Tony spreads across his face.

„Alright, sugar buns, but you owe me for that move. Out of the car with you, Pete.“ 

With a confused frown Peter opens the door slowly and steps onto the sidewalk. What the hell would they want to tell him? Geez, he really hopes it’s nothing bad. His dads stand next to the car, Tony leaning heavily onto Steve, dramatically throwing a hand across his face. 

„What’s wrong?“ Peter asks, lifting an eyebrow curiously. His dads seem nervous, as if the next thing they are about today is something to hard for him to handle. 

„Okay, Pete, let’s just get this over with.“ Tony begins, detaching himself from Steve. „Okay, so, I said we were living quite central, right? See, the thing is that we kind of live in the most central place of Manhattan…“ He scratches the back of his head. Peter just stands there, not understanding. The most central place… Why would that be a problem? What is the most central building in New York anyway… could it be… „The Stark Tower?“ Peter asks, his mouth falling open. „Do you work there or something?“ Cause really. He is going to move into the Stark. Fucking. Tower. Somebody pinch him please.

Steve and Tony exchange a look and suddenly burst out laughing, holding their stomaches and giggling hysterically. 

„What the hell?“ Peter says, confused to no end. Did he say something wrong?

„Haha… Oh god. How do we say this?“ Steve laughs and wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye. 

„Let me handle it.“ Tony giggles matter-of-factly before pulling himself halfway together again. „I’ll make it quick and painless. Okay. Are you listening Pete? Good. Yeah, we live in the Stark tower, also known as Avengers Tower. And no, we don’t work there, the reason we live there is because I’m Tony Stark and he’s Captain America, I guess.“ He shrugs as if it was the most normal and casual thing to say.

„Prove it.“ Peter blurts, because seriously, what the hell? Sure, Tony’s beard resembles Stark’s trademark beard a lot and Steve resembles Captain America with his muscular body, but come on.

„You don’t believe me?“ Tony whines, playful hurt in his voice while he clutches his chest. „I am really upset, hurt and disappointed right now, Pete, look, my heart is bleeding all the way through my sweater.“

Steve and Peter just roll their eyes and Tony turns serious again, his hands flying to the base of his hoodie. „Attention, kiddies, here comes some disturbing shit. This is not for the faint hearted, please tell me if you start feeling dizzy.“ He says and pulls the dark gray fabric all the way up to his chin, exposing a black tank top underneath. 

And there it is. Right above the man’s breastbone, slightly protruding from the other flesh and muscle of his chest. Peter can see a circular ring of slightly dimmed bright blue light struggling through the fabric, the rays of light gently illuminating the underside of Tony’s face. 

Peter just stares. And stares. And stares. 

He can’t tear his gaze away from the arc reactor pattern of light shining through the black fabric. The man in front of him really is Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Iron man in the flesh. 

And now, given the fact that he really is Iron Man, Steve has to be… Oh. My. God. Peter doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what to say. A billion different thoughts and feelings are whizzing through his head and body, turning his brain into a completely useless mess.

„So that’s why your fancy ass beard was so familiar“ He manages. Tony chokes. 

„What?! There is absolutely nothing wrong with my beard. Is there something wrong with my beard, Steve? Is it too bristly? Does it not suit me? I will prove you wrong, Peter, my beard is absolutely fabulous.“ 

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes his lover towards the car. Grumbling, the billionaire slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut loudly, kicking in AC/DC’s ‚Shoot to thrill‘ at deafening volume.

„How much does he pay you to stick around?“ Peter asks with a lopsided smile. Steve laughs wholeheartedly and looks around as if he was expecting somebody to watch them. 

„With his love till death us part.“ Steve smiles, blushing, actually ***blushing***, and Peter slaps a hand in front of his mouth, pointing his finger at the sparkling ring on Steve’s hand. 

„You’re married?“ He gasps loudly and Steve quickly tries to shush him. „I am soooo gonna rat this out to the press. What will the fangirls say? The shippers? The homophobic soccer moms? I am gonna be so rich!“ 

„No you’re not.“ Steve snorts and drags the boy back to the car, Peter hanging from his muscular arm helplessly. Just how strong is the guy? „Come on, let’s get you home.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I actually planned on adding an other scene to this chapter, but then I figured it might turn out too long if I did.
> 
> Anyway, next chap will include Petey meeting the Avengers! Yaay :3
> 
> Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Have a new chap!
> 
> First off: You guys are amazing. Seriously. Your lovely comments mean so, so much to me, they really give me a good feeling about this fic and keep me going, even when I don't really feel like writing! Your opinions on this story really matter to me :3 Keep up the wonderful commentary, you guys!
> 
> I kind of like this chapter, I enjoyed finally letting Pete meet up with the Avengers a lot, I've been looking forward to doing so for ages (especially now after Civil War) ;) Gosh I love them all so much <3 
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> Also sorry for typos, I wrote this chap on my cell.  
> I will correct them as soon as  
> I can, I promise!

The Stark Tower, or Avengers Tower is nothing Peter has ever seen before. Sure, the imposant building caught his eye several times while swinging around the city as Spiderman and he has more often than not risked peek through the glass fronts exposing the interior, however being in it, taking in the atmosphere the building radiates from the inside, seeing everything from a different angle, being part of it is so different.

On the inside, the tower looks even more majestic, elegant and technically advanced than the exterior does, everything is glass and light and steel and tech.

Peter looks around curiously, eyes wide, trying to remember and memorize every yet so small detail, not able to get enough of all the beauty surrounding him.

„Please, Pete, stop staring like you’ve just seen Captain America being defrosted. Or at least close your mouth, people are already staring. And it’s making me uncomfortable.“ Tony calls from the elevator on the other side of the foyer. Peter forces himself to tear his gaze away from all the fascinating stuff and quickly rushes to his dads’ sides.

„Since when does praise make you uncomfortable? And stop referencing me.“ Steve teases and hums contently when Tony leans his head onto his shoulder. „Aww, stop being sassy, Steve. It’s me who does the sass in this house and I tolerate no rivalry in this house. My Sass-level will always be the highest, Period.“

„We’ll see about that.“ Steve replies, straightening when a pleasant female voice announces that they have reached their destination. „Peter seems pretty sassy too.“

The metal doors open without a sound and Peter steps out, ready to discover more of the interior of the tower when – Wham!

A body hits the wall right next to him hard, an unpleasant smack echoing through the room.

„Thor, you motherfucker!“ A shrill shriek echoes through the room and the person slides to the ground, groaning and touching his ribs gingerly.

„Language, Clint!“ Steve bellows and Clint – oh my god, it is Hawkeye, Peter thinks he is going to hyperventilate – immediately straightens up and snaps his head around.

„Oh come on, Cap. Are we gonna bring up the ‚Language‘ running gag again? I thought you were so happy we finally let it go! It’s not like there are any kids around here– oooooh.“ His eyes widen once he spots Peter, his eyebrows rising all the way up into his hairline.

„Uh… hey?“ The archer says, clearly uncertain how to react, giving a half assed wave and a smile to make the situation less uncomfortable. Peter, also just standing there like a dweeb, nods slowly, not knowing what to say or do, because hey, Hawkeye, the world’s greatest archer has just been flung against a wall in front of his feet, and he is not wearing battle clothes, his leather straps and black gear are replaced by faded gray sweatpants and a black tank. Also, he is talking to Peter. He is actually having conversation with Hawkeye.

„So you two have finally been successful?“ Clint hoists himself to his feet, brushing non existent dust off his knees and holding out his hand for Peter to take. „Sup, little guy. I’m Clint, but yeah, that's kind of obvious, I guess. And please, don’t call me Hawkeye, although birds are awesome, I like Clint better.“ Peter hesitantly grabs Clint’s huge hand.

„I’m Peter.“ The teen says, and wow, really smooth, way to make a first impression. Really, great job, Peter. Nailed it.

„Really nice meeting you Pete.“ Clint says, laying a hand onto Peter’s shoulder. „Remember to tell Tony and Steve to get a room sometimes and hide Tony’s coffee or scotch for me once in a while. Anyway! I gotta wring that son of a b– female dog Thor’s neck. We were kinda sparring for the last pop tart, you know how it is. See ya around!“ He salutes after shooting a quick glance at Steve and sprints off to the other side of the floor. In the distance, there is a crash, an ear piercing battle cry and a deep voice booming the declaration of a mighty and honorable revenge.

„Yeah… that’s Clint. He’s like this all the time. Whenever you talk to him, build in at least one or two indirect bird jokes or puns for me, okay?“ Tony says and leads the group of three further through the building. It is truly beautiful, the furniture looks inviting and comfortable and elegant at the same time, and the largeness of the room makes it look airy and open.

Peter snorts but listens up when a strong feminine voice predominates the sparring noises from the kitchen.

„Stop behaving like toddlers, you are two grown men, for gods sake. What will our guest think of us?“

„Wait… How the hell did she know?“ Tony mutters into his sweater, confused.

„Hidden superpowers.“ The lady in tight, form fitting skinny jeans and white lose top answers with a faint smile. Her hair is a vibrant shade of red, falling onto her shoulders in soft, natural curles, but nevertheless she looks deadlier than any nuclear weapon could ever be: Black Widow.

An instinctive chill runs down Peters spine; He has come around a lot as Spider-Man, and many tales and stories about her ruthless and ice-cold killing exist through all of New York. She is also known for her agility, speed and marvelous use of weapons, making her an unbelievably fearsome enemy.

However, the woman standing in front of him right now spreads her arms and crushes him in a friendly, warm hug, wrapping them around his torso tightly. Peter turns bright red (Come on, he’s (almost) seventeen, can you blame him?) and awkwardly hugs her back. He also notices that he actually is about an inch taller than her, which surprises him, he had never thought her to be smaller than him.

„Hi, call me Natasha. You’re Steve and Tony’s son, right? Nice to meet you.“ She smiles, her voice surprisingly soft, her eyes radiating warmth, and she is the exact opposite Peter would have expected of a skillful Russian assassin like her. „Um I– Hey. I’m Peter.“ He stutters awkwardly and that makes her pinch his cheeks and let out a small sound of delight.

„Aww, aren’t you just the cutest.“ She coos and purses her lips, making Peter blush even harder.

„Control yourself son.“ Tony giggles evilly. „She's a beauty even without make-up right? Try not to say that aloud though. She doesn’t like to be hit on. Clint's really overprotective, you know.“

„I heard that. And it's not my fault Banner can't protect her from all the pervs." Clint bickers from the kitchen. Natasha’s gaze becomes dark and scary.

„Please don’t harm Tony, Nat, at least not in front of Pete.“ Steve says and Tony whines in protest.

„I’ll try.“ She replies, a devious smile twisting across her face and she turns around, walking off while swaying her hips. „You three want to john us for food? We’ve ordered Chinese. You okay with that, Peter?“ She asks from out of the kitchen.

„Um, sure, actually, I’m kinda starving.“

∆

They eat with Natasha, Clint and Thor. The god of thunder turns out to be a pretty nice guy even though he has a quite ‚overwhelming personality‘ and tends to talk in caps lock. But Peter enjoys listening to his various tales about defeating monsters all over the nine realms, the ‚fair maidens‘ in Asgard and stories about his and Loki’s childhood.

„Where are the others at?“ Tony asks between two mouthful of noodles, earning a stern look from Steve who is eating his food with a fork.

„Bruce is on a science conference somewhere in Germany, in München, I think. Wanda and Pietro have been called out to handle a minor incident concerning Deadpool wrecking havoc in the East again.“ She says, almost spitting out the word like it was venom.

„Oh dear, not him again.“ Steve sighs and runs his hands through his hair, suddenly looking weary.

„What's so bad about him?“ Peter asks, looking up from his food, suddenly curious. Sure, knows about Deadpool and his crazy antics as well as bad reputation, but he had kind of cut himself off from the outside world in the past few years. Could a superhero really behave this badly or is it all just exaggeration?

„He fought a wannabe B-class villain in the suburbs, actually no big deal for him, I mean the rumors say the dude has a healing factor better than Wolverine’s. But of course, instead of doina a proper job without complications like every normal person would do, he decided getting the bad guy arrested required blowing up a whole block and damaging several stored as well as several cars. I’m not saying we don’t cause damage when we fight as Avengers, but at least we try to avoid it.“ Clint huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

„Maybe it was necessary?“ Peter suggests and the eyes of everyone around the table widen. „Believe me, son, that Deadpool is up to no good, everywhere he goes, he causes more chaos and destruction than he actually saves anything.“ Tony says flatly and pats the teenagers shoulder. „Don’t think too much about that idiot, will ya.“ Peter just shrugs and digs into his food again.

They go back to regular chattering about this and that, missions, crimes, food et cetera. Clint is enthusiastically telling Thor one of his newest pranks he unsuccessfully pulled on Fury, Natasha is breaking the wood of her chopsticks apart to build some kind of murderous weapon and Steve and Tony bicker in their usual, familiar friendly way. Peter sighs contently. This is very nice. Sitting around the table with the others, talking about this and that, sharing thoughts and opinions, just being together.

∆

After food, it got pretty late, so they decide to watch a movie. Clint picks Mean Girls, because it’s his turn today. He is especially fond of the ‚She doesn’t even go here!‘ scene and he claims the movie has to be watched because it is a classic, but they all know he is just really into It’s–my–first–day–at–a–new–school–teenage-highshoil-dramas produced for teens. Tony tells Peter he has actually caught Clint watching a High School Musical marathon with a tub of chocolate ice cream flowing over with the genuine tears he shed because of the ‚we’re soarin‘, flyin’-scene’.

Peter is squashed between Thor and Tony –Steve is still doing the dishes– and although it is a little hard to breathe with Thor’s bulging triceps jabbing into his chest, he feels wonderful. Finally, he can spend time with people who accept him, include him into their lives, people who genuinely try to get to know him. He has been lacking this feeling for much too ling now, it is as if he’s almost forgotten what it feels like to have people around him who actually appreciated him and liked him.

„Guys, I think I’m gonna hit the pillows.“ Clint announces when the credits roll. It is only around ten in the evening, and the others protest.

„Oh come on, Clint! We at least have to watch a Lord of the Rings marathon!“ Tony whines, shoving the archer, who has attempted to stand up, back into the sofa again.

„I’m going to set out tomorrow morning. Shield wants me to replace some security system of a prison for a day, they have to cut off the power for some ten hours to get some upgrading and fixing done. Now let go of me old man or I will walk in on you and Steve the next time on purpose.“

„Not if I steal your hearing aid first and tinker around with it a bit.“

„Oh shut up and let me go already. I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow. I don't want the prisoners to see the wrinkles that come from having to put up with you guys.“

„Let him go, Tony.“ Steve’s voice sounds from the armchair located a little away from the sofa (He isn’t overly fond of soapy teenage movies and is reading a book instead.)

Tony lets go immediately and Cling literally jumps from the sofa, yawning loudly. „Night, retards. And good night, Peter. See you tomorrow evening, maybe.“ Peter waves and the archer is off to the elevator door, pressing the button.

Thor(surprisingly gently) puts in the trilogy of Lord of the rings and soon, the wonderful soundtrack of the Shire causes Peter's eyelids to become heavy.

Peter yawns and nuzzles his cheek further into Tony's chest, he probably shouldn't be doing this at his age, but eh, it's comfortable and he doesn't care because sleepiness is slowly creeping up on him. The reassuring weight of Tony's arm draped over his back doesn't help staying awake either, so he just buries himself into the comforting warmth and lets himself drift into the dark, endless realm of dreams and sleep.

∆

"Psst, Steve. Steeeeeve." Natasha whispers and Steve's head whips up, he has been on the verge of dozing off for the last hour now. The whole level is dark, only the dim shine of the rolling credits is gently illuminating the redhead's face, and Steve has to blink a couple of times for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

"What?"

"Just look at those cuties. I absolutely have to take a picture of them to blackmail Tony with it someday."

Steve stands up from the armchair and carefully puts his book away (The fault in our stars, Natasha swears he teared up once or twice while the others were watching the movie) and walks around the sofa, his face turning incredibly soft as he catches a glimpse of said 'cuties'.

Tony and Peter are curled up together on the sofa, the faint glow of the arc reactor gently lighting their faces in an gentle brilliant blue. They are asleep, Peter resting his head and hands on Tony's chest, his mouth slightly open and his hair sticking into all directions. Tony has laid an arm protectively around the younger boy's shoulders, pulling him close. His head is resting on Peter's, hair and beard blending into each other. The mechanic's soft snoring is the only sound in the entire level.

"Good lord, let me take one too, I can't wait to blackmail Peter with it one day." He smiles and fishes his cell out of his pocket.

∆

"Peter, wake up!" A strong hand shakes him gently and he jolts out if sleep, his eyes flying open in slight panic. Where is he? Oh my  
God, did he pass out somewhere as Spiderman?

Then he remembers. Whew, he's only at Tony and Steve's. And it's only Steve kneeling in front if him, his face visible from some weird blue light. Where does that even come from?

He yawns widely and rubs his eyes when he feels a tingle in his cheek, probably from sleeping on Tonys chest. He carefully brushes over it with a few fingers, and Holy shit, that imprint is at least half an inch deep.

"Arc reactor mark? Booo. Sucks." He says, but he doesn't really mind. Carefully hoisting Tony's arm off him, he frees himself from the elder man's embrace and stands, stretching his stiff limbs.

"You can sleep on the same floor Tony and I do, it is two stories above this one. We have a guest room... Of course if that's alright. I would show  
You, but I really want Tony to get some sleep, he spends too much time in his workshop lately."

"It's fine pops, good night."

Peter heads to the elevator and steps inside, pressing the right button to the right floor. When it slows down and the doors open, Peter finds his room after a few seconds of searching.

His bed room is beautiful, one wall is completely out of glass, letting the bright, vibrant and colorful lights of the city flood the floor and furniture of the room. He is just about to fall head-first unto the soft pillows of the bed when his Spidey-sense kicks in with full force, signalizing him he would have work to do this night. Damn.

He was so occupied with meeting new people he forgot him being Spider-Man was actually a thing.

There is a window embedded into the glass, he can climb up and jump out. He rips open the zipper of his backpack, now wide awake, and quickly strips out of his clothing. He slips into his skintight red and blue spandex suit in one fluid, skillful motion and attaches his web shooters to both wrists. The familiar feeling of the flexible material stretching over his skin calms him down and lets his mind slowly go to full speed.

Losing no time, he crawls up the glass and reaches for the window when it suddenly comes to his mind: The Stark Tower has one if the best security systems on this planet, so if he jumped out if the building now, it would immediately be reported to Steve and Tony. And he seriously wouldn't want that to happen.

Okay, so what now? Oh my god he is wasting so much time here, people are in danger somewhere and they need his help! Think, Peter, think!

What if...

"Jar...vis?" He asks hesitantly into the dark, not sure if this will work.

"Yes, Peter?" The AI replies almost immediately, and Peter exhales, relieved. He wasn't quite sure if this would work, but since Tony talked to Jarvis all the time and let him do countless random things like turn on the microwave so he wouldn't have to go there, it only made sense he would respond to Peter too.

"Okay Jarvis, I know this might be a bit rude to ask since I've only moved here this day, but I need to ask you a favor."

"Go ahead, my creator gave you permission to give me orders."

"Oh, okay. So, the thing is, I have to leave the building like, right now. And for doing that, I casually have to fling myself out if the window. Do you think you could turn off the security system off for a couple of seconds until I'm gone? I swear I am up to no bad."

"Alright, I have already done some research and happen to know your secret identity. I will grant  
Your wish under one condition: You will tell your parents about it. I don't like lying to Tony."

"God, Jarvis, you're a saint. I promise I will, okay? Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." Jarvis replies and Peter opens the window, salutes into the air and flings himself into the colorful darkness of New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned peeps! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Whew, this chap was really fun to write! I hope you like it >:3
> 
> Anyway, I would like to announce that this fic needs some serious plot planning for the future. I'm not saying I'm gonna abandon this fic, I am most likely just gonna take a break for a week or so to do some plot stuff. I know where I want everything to head, but I really want to prevent writer's block :3
> 
> Jesus Maria, I'm writing too much into this comment thingy again :3
> 
> ENJOY~
> 
> (Also tell me if there are too many typos in this chap, I wrote this baby on my cell as well :3)

Twip, Twip, Twip.

Peter dives through the loud, yet peaceful and colorful, yet dark nightlife of Manhattan, swinging from building to building, enjoying the familiar resistance the cool night air builds up against his whole body. 

A small whoop bubbles up in his throat when he flings himself over the Chrysler building and lets himself drop down in free fall on the other side until he almost reaches the ground where the huge amounts of honking cars are struggling to get from A to B.

Actually, he is having way too much fun at the moment, considering he will have to fight some bad guys in near future, but eh, whatevs. Life is too short to constantly worry about everything.

His Spider-sense tickles the back of his brain again, signalizing him the location of crime is somewhere nearby. He turns serious again, and after about thirty seconds of using his Spidey-sense like a metal detector to locate 'his' crime, he drops to the ground in a dark alleyway soundlessly, freezing in spot to catch as many sounds as possible. 

He is still somewhere in the center of the city, however this particular area seems like it is deserted. His whole body goes tense when the ringing sound of glass shattering and the bark if rough voices arguing cuts through the silence.

Not losing a second, Peter darts forward and starts running towards a small liquor store where the sound came from. 'Great', he thinks when realizes the robber must have some kind of weapon or blunt instrument with him to be able to break the glass. 'Way to make a superhero's life complicated.'

He jumps through the hole in the shop-window, carefully avoiding the razor sharp edges and shards of glass scattered all over the floor. Having to sew his suit whenever it rips or is damaged is a real pain in the ass.

Inside the store, two robbers/baddies/murderers/villains dressed completely in black with black masks are just threatening the old shopkeeper behind the counter with a huge knife, he has probably just been shutting down the store. 

Both of them are armed to the teeth, they are carrying several knives of all sizes and shapes at their belts, and one of them even has a sword strapped to his back. 

'At least they don't have guns' Peter thinks when he quickly disarms one by kicking the knife out out of his hand with a powerful kick to the wrist. Usually, he would have lightened the situation with some sassy commentary or small talk, but he really isn't in the mood for that today. He wants to return home as quickly as possible.

"What the hell?" The robber shouts in surprise, and Peter exploits their perplexity and and kicks one in the face while giving the other one a nasty uppercut. They both topple to the ground, groaning and cradling their faces. 

"What business do you have here? Answer quickly or you'll get hurt worse." Peter asks, bored, they seem to be huge dweebs who haven't thought through their job properly.

"We're only following orders, please don't hurt us further!" The larger one pleads, still gingerly holding his bleeding nose.

Peter scoffs and crouches down next to the one he had punched in the face before and looks like he is on the verge of passing out. He grabs him by the collar of his black cotton overall and pulls their faces close.

"And who is your boss? Does he have a name?" He says, lowering his voice and adding only the hint of a growl to it. 

"He is strong too, you know." The man beneath Peter blurts, his voice trembling and his frame shaking. "He has superpowers too, he's going to beat you up when he finds you!"

"Oh yeah?" Peter says, rolling his eyes behind his dimmed lenses. "Then why don't you just summon him here and we'll find out about that."

"No need for that, Spidey, I'm already here!" An annoying voice sounds from behind him and Peter immediately spins around. 

Aw hell no. 

"You know, I really didn't expect you to be here harassing my mercs, I thought maybe they got themselves caught by the police, happens all the time, they are actually pretty useless. But eh, this is really complicated now. Who do I beat up now? The idiots? You? The shopkeeper hiding behind the counter? I am so confused right now."

"Are you... Deadpool?" Peter asks, slowly falling into battle stance. He recognized the mask and the bright red leather suit immediately, but he wants to be completely sure. 

"Oh yeah right, we never met. I am Deadpool, also known for being the most kickass mercenary in the United States. Or the most insufferable, depends on who you ask. Also I have a healing factor that makes Wolverine cry his beautiful princess tears into his pink fluffy cuddly blanket. Although come on, there is nobody in East America who doesn't know me. Bad reputation? Destroys everything? Kills people for money? Does that ring a bell?" He counts with his fingers, and Peter just wants to get out of here. God this guy's voice makes his head hurt! How can a single person be more annoying than a school bus full of pubescent little children?

"These are your men?" Peter asks exasperated instead of answering, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He really wants to get this over with.

"Yeah kinda. Although I'm really ashamed of admitting that."

"And why are they here? If you are trying to rob this shop for the weapons I will have to sue you."

"Aw come on, Spidey, why would I be after the weapons? I have plenty. They even have their own names! Nooo, I'm after that little bald wrinkly old man cowering behind the counter. Aw look, sounds like he is just loading his gun. Adorable. Actually no, he's an asshole."

Bang! 

"And a motherfucker! OW! That really hurt!" The merc yells when a bullet hits him right between the eyes and immediately presses his gloved hand against the hole rapidly leaking blood. "Oh, fuck nooo, blood in my eyes. Gaah how I hate it. It's not like it stings or anything, it just really blurs your vision, like water or stuff, you know? And it doesn't come out for a while, it literally takes forever to get rid of it."

Peter jolts, but quickly frees himself from his rigor when he sees Deadpool rapidly pulls out a gun as well, aiming for the old man's head.

"Oh, no, there is no killing going on tonight!" Peter states determinedly, webbing both weapons in the men's hands, making them dysfunctional. 

"What did the old guy even do? Why do you want to kill him?" The teen  
asks angrily, tugging at the webs with one strong motion to send the guns clattering to his feet. He is becoming angrier and more impatient with every second, because why, of all 365 days if the year, did he have to put up with difficult stuff like this today?

"That's mercenary business, not yours. I have my reasons so deal with it. If you don't want to see this guy being shot you better leave this place because I'm gonna carry my job out, no matter what you say." Deadpool says, indifferently shrugging his broad shoulders.

Peter's hands fist at his sides, clenching so tight his knuckles pop. So these are mercenaries. Ruthless killers. Cold hearted bastards.

"Make me leave and you can kill the guy." He just answers and raises his fists to eye level. 

"Mhhm." Deadpool hums approvingly, unstrapping the katanas from his back an laying them onto the floor carefully. "It's been a long time since I last had a good old fashioned fist fight. No tricks, no guns, no web-shooters. Bring it, Spider-boy." 

Peter darts forward, his eyes wide and his mind completely clear, scanning every inch of the merc's body, predicting his style of fighting, trying to reveal his weaknesses.

It will be a hard fight, Deadpool is considerably larger than Peter, which doesn't necessarily mean he is stronger than the teen, but he should avoid getting hit. Lucky he is pretty agile, since breaking a few ribs isn't a thing he can afford tonight.

Deadpool blocks Peter's fist aimed for his head effortlessly with his forearm and the teen's next strike aimed for his gut is deflected by the merc's knee hitting his arm.

Deadpool reacts immediately, his already lifted leg extends with the aim of kicking Peter into the stomach. His Spidey-sense pre-warning him, Peter quickly twists his body to the side and brings his elbow down onto the mercenary's thigh. 

The elder man reflexively pulls the leg up and Peter exploits the lift to fling himself into the air. Thanks to him being a lightweight, he manages to push himself up almost five feet. Spinning around in the air, he kicks Deadpool straight across the face. That not being enough, he plants a hard kick on his chin for good measure with his other foot, causing the merc's head to snap back.

Peter doesn't have to see Deadpool's face to know he is surprised as hell. To his displeasure, however, the merc manages to regain his balance and focus to the same time Peter smoothly backflips on the ground again.

"Damn, your not half bad for some fourteen year old kid. I'm pretty sure you fractured some vertebras really badly there. Rude. Do you know how nasty it sounds when they heal?"

Peter rolls his eyes behind his mask. Fourteen? Seriously?

"But I won't spare you, no matter how young you are, sorry, dude."

"Oh, don't worry, it's not like I'm gonna go easy on you just because you're an old man." Peter smirks and dodges the mercenary's fist easily, diving to the ground on all fours. 

The next five minutes, they keep on beating the shit out of each other, well, actually not, they never quite land a hit on each other, fists are catched, blows and kicks deflected or dodged. They are on the same level, and although Deadpool's hand-to-hand combat skills are flawless, honed over years and years of mercenary business, Peter's Spider-sense compensating his lack of combat skill and makes him a worthy opponent.

They find themselves caught up in a rally of punches, and Peter slowly but steadily feels his muscles tire out and weaken. Deadpool doesn't seem to be affected at all, he probably has a much higher stamina when it comes to combat. He catches Peter's shoulder when the teen doesn't have enough time to react, almost dislocating it with the strength of his blow. 

Peter hisses in pain as the joint protests, and Deadpool immediately takes advantage of it. The teen just manages to dodge the powerful and quick strike heading for his chin, but he doesn't have time to bend his body completely away from the boot kicking him into the stomach. 

The kick presses the air out of his lungs and sends Peter flying across the room against a showcase. The glass behind him shatters and shards fly into all directions. Pain explodes right beneath his shoulder blade while Peter gasps and wheezes for air. He can feel hot blood soaking into the spandex of his suit, trickling down his back. 

However, he doesn't dare to rest, knowing the mercenary will kill the old man. He picks himself up to face Deadpool again, but out of the blue, there is a deafening crash and more glass shattering. A tall dark figure appears in the shop. 

Peter breathes an internal sigh of relief when he recognizes him, and, to his surprise, Deadpool ducks his head and raises his hands above his head. 

"What is your business here, Deadpool?"

"Okay, man with no fear, I didn't do anything, I'm completely innocent, I am going to leave right now. Just lemme pick up Larry and I'm gone, okay? I'm not even gonna finish my job." He says while hastily strapping the katanas to his back again. He bends down and picks up his gun, tucking it into his belt. "Bye everyone! It was nice sparring with you, Spidey. Hope that crash didn't hurt too much. See ya around!"

And as fast as he came, Deadpool vanishes out of the store, leaving the two other men behind.

"God, thank you for coming, Matt. I really owe you." Peter smiles when Matt Murdock, or Daredevil, kneels down next to him and helps him up.

"You're wounded." He states, turning around and walking off to the counter. "Let me find the fist aid kit for you." 

"Aww no, I don't think the cut's that deep—

"It is. And you, old man, leave this place instantly." He growls and the shopkeeper immediately scurries out of the store. Matt bends down, his fingers precisely strobes every inch of the counter, his heightened feeling sense making finding the white fist aid kit a piece of cake.

"There it is. Sit down on this stool, please. Let's get you patched up." Matt smiles and Peter groans when he reluctantly plops down onto a cushioned stool behind the counter. He pulls the top part of his suit over his head, cursing when the cut beneath his shoulder blade opens up again. 

"The cut is in a very impractical position." Matt says sadly when his long fingers slide over Peter's back, prodding, sensing, feeling underneath the boy's skin. "But luckily, the cut didn't damage anything else than skin."

The first aid kid rattles and clatters behind Peter, and after the lawyer prepares all the instruments that will be needed, Peter straightens his back to make work for the soon-to-be lawyer easier. He knows he must have been busy today too, so he wants to be as little of a hassle as he can be.

"This is going to hurt." Matt warns when he dabs an alcohol soaked cotton ball onto the cut carefully. A hot, sharp flash of pain explodes undernieth his shoulder blade and Peter bites back a groan, but it is still audible through his clenched teeth. 

The pain, to Peter's relief, dies away soon, but the clicking sound of the scissor closing around the suture needle makes him incredibly nervous again. He really, really hates this part of being stitched, it's not like he didn't trust Matt doing a good job, hell, he is probably a better stitcher than some doctors, but still. It means he has been reckless again and proves Matt the teen is still dependent on his help.

Peter relaxes a little when he feels the familiar weight of Matt's nimble-fingered hand tracing over his back again, searching for the edges if the cut to start the stitching, and he leans into the touch of his best friend a bit. 

Peter met Daredevil by accident, he had been chasing some baddies around in Manhattan only weeks after he got bitten by the radioactive spider, and he unknowingly wandered from Manhattan into Hell's kitchen. After a good hour, he fought off the bad guys, but he was too exhausted and beat up to go home to the orphanage, so he decided to crash on a roof somewhere. 

He crawled up the side of a not too tall building; by the time he reached the roof, however, a guy wearing a red suit and a mask that only covered his eyes was already standing there, silently watching him.

'What are you doing here?' Daredevil had asked, standing completely still as if he was trying to sense something. 'Who are you? I have never seen you here before.' 

Peter, back when he was still fifteen and completely new to all the hero business, shyly answered all the questions the masked hero asked him although he was dead tired and preferaby would have laid on the ground and slept for a month. 

Noticing Peter had several wounds and bruises, Daredevil, or Matt, as he found out later, persuaded the young hero to stay over at his apartment for the night where he could also get patched up and cleaned. Peter was too tired and exhausted to care about anything anymore, so he gladly accepted the offer. Apartment was better than rooftop by rain, right? 

Matt's apartment was located right next to a ridiculously huge electronic commercial sign flooding the entire living room with a blinding bright pink shine. 

'Doesn't this light freak you out?' He asked, shielding his eyes with his hand and frowning when he realized the man didn't even have curtains or blinds.

'When you're blind, light usually doesn't bother you.' Daredevil just answered and got out his first aid kit. 

Oops. Really tactful Peter.

'Sorry. I couldn't tell.' He managed but Matt just shrugged it off. 'Don't worry, most people don't know.'

He cleaned and sterilized Peter's wounds, wrapped them and even insisted on the teen sleeping in his bed. Peter fell asleep the second the second his body touched the mattress.

In the early afternoon, he was woken up by Matt, now in civilian clothing and round dark glasses. Peter, still in the bottom part of his suit, of course panicked and immediately wanted to head back to the orphanage, not wanting to make the punishment he would get anyway worse. 

Matt just raised an eyebrow at Peter's mention of the orphanage but insisted on accompanying him home. 

Since that incident roughly one and half years ago, the two have met more and more often, Matt kind of adopted to the role of a mentor, him being a few years older than Peter and more experienced. Daredevil would frequently appear whenever Spider-Man needed help and Peter would hang around with him and his buddy Foggy off duty sometimes.

Over time, they became close friends, always looking out for and helping each other.

"Here we go." Matt says, one hand pinching the cut together while the other stabs the inelastic end of the thread through Peter's sensible skin. Peter's muscles immediately tense up to the max, hot burning pain stabbin every cell in his back. 

"Sorry, I must have missed that ganglion there." Matt sighs wearily, and Peter can hear the tiredness and exhaustion drowning out the usual humorous and brisk undertone in his voice. 

Damn. Matt is tired and exhausted, really exhausted, Peter doesn't need a mysterious sixth sense to figure that out. 

"Matt..." Peter starts, reaching back with the not wounded-shoulder-blade-hand and grabs Matt's, stilling him right before he is about to complete an other stitch. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, there has just been a lot going on in Hell's kitchen tonight, I've just been a little more... occupied than usual. Nothing special, don't worry." He smiles and turns Peter around again. "Now stay still, I'm not leaving before that cut is stitched up. You don't want Captain America and Iron Man questioning you about an awfully ugly scar, right?" He adds casually and Peter can hear his broad smile through his words.

"Why do you always know these kind of things?" Peter groans and covers his face with both his hands, blushing. 

"Do you like them?" Matt asks and this time Peter can tell he is focussing better on stitching around the places where it hurts, he hardly feels pain anymore

"They are amazing, really. Not because they're superheroes, they are such different and wonderful people. They make you feel accepted, like a part of their family. I would've never thought a chance like this would come before I could finally leave that stupid orphanage."

"I'm really happy for you, Peter." Matt hums behind him, and Peter knows his words are genuine. He didn't plan on bringing up the topic since he knows how sensible he is about the death of his father. 

"Thanks, it means a lot to me, really." He says and closes his eyes, letting Matt finish the stitches in in silence. 

"You thinking about Deadpool?" Matt asks when he cuts off the thread of the last stitch. 

"Matt, you really gotta stop doing that, it's hella creepy. But yeah. It's kinda hard ignoring him." Peter laughs weakly, grabbing the upper part of his suit from the counter and carefully pulling it over his head. 

"I kinda have the feeling there is more to it." Matt says, sterilizing the tools again before putting them back into the kit.

"It's just... He's a mercenary. I get that he isn't quite what people would call a good guy, after all he causes a lot if damage and stuff right? But I just can't deal with the fact that he actually kills people for money. He takes actual peoples life for such a dull reason, it's like it's meaningless to him. I mean how can he do that? Doesn't he ever consider these people having loves ones, children or family? I –" Peter's voice cracks and Matt lays a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder.

"Hey, don't get upset about a guy like him. There are few who understand his antics. He has a bad reputation, yes, but it seems a lot worse since he, unlike others, does nothing to cover it up." He stands and wipes his hands on his suit. "And about the killing: You're wrong. Sure, he does it for a living, but it isn't meaningless to him. His messed up-ness actually comes from killing, taking lives, murdering. Don't judge him too hard, his life is really messed up too."

"And how would you know that?" Peter asks suspiciously and raises an eyebrow. 

"Oh god, bad question, haha." Matt chuckles and walks towards the hole in the shop-window. "How do I put this... Let's just say that we were in a... Relationship for a short while. But it didn't really work out, so yeah."

"You where WHAT?" Peter's exclaims, amazed, his jaw dropping. "How the hell did I not know about that? Why did you never tell me?" 

"It was before you became Spider-Man." Matt shrugs innocently.

"That's not an answer!" Peter yells after him as the red suited 'Man without fear' salutes and runs off into the darkness. 

Peter snorts and leaves the shop as well, wondering who will take care of the damage caused. 

Pff, probably Foggy again. Whatever.

He shoots a web at the next higher building and swings away, heading back to the Stark tower, back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, folks! >u>


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone again! It's been a little more than a week!
> 
> This is a really LONG Chapter!
> 
> Believe it or not, I've really got some plot planning done in the last days! However I have to say that in the future, Chapters sadly aren't going to be updated as quickly as they are now. ;( Bear with me people, I'm entering a really difficult and busy time at school!
> 
> Soo! Some stuff I want to shout out!
> 
> 1\. FORGET CLINT'S MARRIED! I am now an official HawkSilver shipper and although this pairing is going to be the death of me they are just too cute for me to care ;D (I'll edit the scene where he says he's married in Chap 3, just fyi :3) Hope it doesn't overly bother the Clintasha and ClintLaura shippers!
> 
> 2\. After Civil War, I really started shipping ScarletVision, so I'm including THAT TOO in this fic :3 
> 
> 3\. You may wonder why the heck Jarvis is still around after he has been 'transferred' into Vision. The reason is simple: I just can't get over the fact that Jarvis just... isn't there anymore, it makes me really sad every time I think about it ;( I have nothing against Friday, but come on, it is *Jarvis* we are talking about. He is a part of the Avengers/Stark Tower/Tony/EVERYTHING.
> 
> And last but not least :  
> 4\. Thanks a bunch to AvengingAce pointing out my characterization of Jarvis was a bit off in Chapter 3! I was really unsatisfied with how I wrote him back them so thank you very, very much. 
> 
> PLEASE, if anything bothers you with this fic, tell me! I love constructive criticism :P I really want this fic to please as many people as possible!
> 
> Anyways, why can't i just say things in a short way? I'm pretty sure only 34% of you actually reads my boring Notes haha :D
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> (Oh yeah, and I wrote this chap on my Laptop again, so prepare for weird quotation marks!)

Blinding light piercing the backside of his eyelids makes Peter wake up, causing the teen to jolt out of sleep and hectically whip his head from side to side. 

Where is he? This is not the orphanage… Hospital? Kidnaping? Weird clown ritual? 

Wait, wait, wait. ‚Thank you brain, for being ever so useful at all times.‘ Peter thinks when he slowly makes out his surroundings and rolls over in his bed, nuzzling his face against the incredible softness of his pillow. He groans when each and every muscle of his body protests and twinges; looks like his body didn’t quite recover from all the action yesterday. Sucks. That fight against Deadpool sure wore him out.

After slumbering for an other half hour which consists of wrapping himself in a tight burrito of pillows and blanket, letting the comfortable warmth soak into his body and the silky soft material caress his skin, he decides it is time to wake up and shower for a change, although he really doesn’t feel like leaving the bed. Exhaustion seeps into every nerve and muscle in his body when he reluctantly steps out of bed, almost paralyzing them for a moment, causing him to almost topple over.

„Good morning, Peter.“ Jarvis greets Peter in his usual soft but monotonic voice and Peter yawns widely. 

„Sup, Jarvis.“ He slurs back and stretches, the vertebras in his back popping and shifting into the right locations again. He rubs a hand over his face wearily and slaps his cheek to wake him up faster.

„Would you like to take a shower?“ The AI asks and Peter immediately straightens up at the tempting promise of getting clean again. To be honest, he feels pretty gross and dirty at the moment. He couldn’t bring himself to shower yesterday, the only thing he managed to do after he climbed through the window late at night was stripping his suit and tumble into bed, immediately falling asleep.

„Sure, where is the bathroom?“ Peter asks and bends down to collect the scattered fragments of his Spider-Man outfit off the ground. After all the hassle going on in the night, he really didn’t bother properly stashing them away somewhere so nobody would see. He searches for a convenient place to hide them, like a closet or the like, however his room doesn’t seem to have one so he just stuffs the spandex underneath the mattress with the hope no one would look there. Honestly though, he is too tired to seriously care at the moment.

In the wall opposite of you, there is a door embedded into it. It requires the fingerprints of all your five fingers to open it.“ The AI helps when he notices Peter hasn’t found the door.

Peter squints and really, there is an almost non-visible door in the wall next to the actual door, it is the same size. 

He walks up to it and presses the five fingers of his hands against the surface. He jolts a little when the scanner beeps it’s approval of Peter’s fingerprints and the surface protrudes from the wall and slides to the side soundlessly. He enters the beautiful bathroom, all white and glass and light and shimmies out of his briefs, sliding the door shut behind him. Stepping into the hot spray and enjoys the feeling of water pouring down his body, easing the tension out of his muscles. 

When the skin on his hands is completely soaked and wrinkly, he he decides he has used up enough of the Stark Tower’s water reserves and steps out into the colder air outside, immediately grabbing a white fluffy towel and rubbing himself dry again.

Peter sighs contently and shakes the water out of his hair. In the orphanage he never had… No. He never wanted to think about that place again. 

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walks into the bedroom and locates a second door on the wall next to him, it being taller and larger than the bathroom door. Before putting on the clothes he wore yesterday, he decides to check out what is behind that door first. Who knows, maybe he might find Narnia. It would be a shame if he didn’t look.

Pressing the palm of his hand against it, the door slides to the side and the room behind it turns out to be a huge closet. Filled with clothes. His size. Wow. They look new, like they’ve just been bought and Peter instinctively reaches out for them. He selects a pair of black skinny jeans and a red hoodie (red is the best color, okay?) and puts them on, contently inspecting his reflection in the mirror. He really has to thank Tony and Stave for that later. 

Rubbing his still slightly damp hair with the towel a last time, he exits his room and pas out into the corridor. His still sleep drunk brain has difficulties remembering the route to the elevator, but he manages and presses the right button leading two floors down. Impatiently tapping his foot against the elevator floor in no specific rhythm, he descends, eager to see his new family again. The doors open and he steps out, greeted by the sight of (almost) all the Avengers sitting around a round table loaded with breakfast, chattering and joking happily. 

When they notice him, there are several joyful exclamations of „Pete!“ and other diverse nicknames they came up with the day before from everybody. It warms his heart a little and a lopsided smile creeps onto his features. 

He sits down on a free chair between Tony and Steve and reaches for some bread. 

On his right, Tony is half sleeping, half lying on the table, hugging his empty coffee mug like his life depended on it, wearing his usual black tank top and sweatpants. He looks like he is going to die any moment if they don’t pay attention. Steve is illegally chipper for this time of day, occasionally leaving the table to bustle around in the kitchen and making conversation with everyone (except Tony) in his usual friendly way. 

Natasha is sitting opposite of him, her elbows propped up on the table, her head resting on top of her folded hands, probably scanning and reading everybody’ minds with her mysterious hidden superpowers. She smiles and winks at him friendlily as he sits down. Next to her, Clint is cradling the coffeepot with both hands like it was a baby, resting his chin on top of it, claiming it his own with a sadistic expression.

„How did you sleep?“ Steve asks when he comes back to the table, drying his hands off with a kitchen rug and handing Peter a knife.

„The room is amazing, really!“ Peter smiles widely while cuts open a french roll. „And thank you guys for all the new clothes and stuff, I really don’t know what to say. By the way, where’s Thor?“

„You’re welcome. Thor’s visiting Jane, you know, his girlfriend.“ Tony’s muffled voice sounds from his left, earning him a ‚Behave yourself, for gods sake‘ from Steve. 

„Since when does he have a girlfriend? And everything alright dad?“ Peter asks, his eyebrows frowning together in worry. 

„’S fine, Peety, it happens a lot when I sneak out of our room, to work on my new projects in my workshop. Actually, all it takes it two cups of coffee to get me going again, but noooo, look at who is hogging the coffee like some immature brat. That’s a really low blow, man, taking away a man’s coffee. Give it baaaack, Clint. Jarvis, can you reclaim the pot from Clint?“ Tony complains and desperately sips at the last remaining deposit of coffee at the bottom of his mug. 

„Nope.“ Clint and Jarvis say at the same time and the archer inhales the delicious steam rising up from the strong dark liquid. He cups the pot with both hands and guides it to his pursed lips to take a huge gulp. He grins over at Tony, who is friggin losing it; for him, this is probably worse than physical torture, when there suddenly is a white and blue flash and the glass pot isn’t in the marksman’s hands anymore. 

There is an other blue flash and loud cackling and Pietro Maximoff jogs around the table, the pot pressed to his chest triumphantly. „You didn’t see that coming, eh?“ He giggles in his thick Sokovian accent and leans down to capture the archer’s lips in a quick kiss. „Morning, draga.“ He smiles and places the coffee pot down onto the table again. Peter’s eyes widen. Since when where those two a thing? Jesus, he would have never guessed.

„Hillarious.“ The archer mutters but smiles anyway when the Russian nuzzles the archer’s cheek with his nose.

„Not in front of the kid, Pietro. He’s going to be damaged.“ A female voice with less accent chimes from the elevator, half exasperated, half warm and smiling. 

„Wanda, don’t be mean!“ Pietro drawls and detaches himself from Clint. „Can’t a man properly greet his lover in the morning after being on a mission the whole day and night before?“

„A man, yes, but you are not one.“ Wanda, who in the meanwhile has sat down next to the blonde, smiling and raking her ringed fingers through her long, chestnut hair. „You’re a crybaby and immature.“

Pietro playfully gasps, his mouth falling open, but before he can respond anything sassy, a static buzzing fills the air and Vision, elegant and fleet-footed as ever floats down through the ceiling, scooping Wanda up into his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead tenderly. The scarlet witch tangles her hands behind Vision’s skull, leaning into the touch.

„But it’s okay when you do it.“ Pietro pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

„Jesus.“ Peter blurts, he swears he didn’t want to, but damn. He knew it! Wanda and Vision immediately split, a little startled, a bashful blush creeping onto Wanda’s cheeks. 

„Oh no, no, I’m terribly sorry, oh my god.“ Peter mentally slaps himself. „You know, we civilians have no idea about your relationships, it’s mostly just gossiping and RP fan fiction and can’t be trusted… And kinda seeing some rumors being true and stuff, it’s just–

„It’s okay, Peter, I know it’s hard to explain. We were the same when we’ve joined the Avengers.“ Wanda smiles understandingly and uses her powers to transport a chair to the table for her to sit down on, red magic dancing around her hands. 

„It’s kind of common here to keep our relationships a secret since people would never stop bothering us or making us uncomfortable with it. When they found out Tony and Steve were a couple, we almost drowned in all the wishes, blessings, but they also got a lot of hateful and cruel commentary.“ She explains, thanking Vision who has poured her some coffee. 

„Oh god, how mean, why would anybody do that? But yeah, makes sense.“ He says, biting into his bread and reaching for the pot as well. When he reaches for the sugar, Tony slaps the teen’s hand away with a quickness Peter would have never expected the engineer to reach in his state. 

„Don’t you dare put sugar in your coffee, that is literally a sin. It’s nasty.“ 

„Ignore him Pete.“ Steve says, ruffling Peter’s hair and pouring a generous amount of milk and sugar into his coffee.

„Guys, I’m bored. Let’s do something fun today.“ Clint says and leans into Pietro. 

„Sure, why not?“ Natasha says, wiping her mouth mouth with a napkin. 

„How about all of us go to Central Park and have a picnic there? We could all use something stress-free time after all the incidents lately, don’t you all think?“ Steve suggests and a rumble of approval passes through the group of Avengers.

„Alright!“ Natasha says and stands up, starting to clear the table. „How about we all meet up here in twenty and leave together?“

∆

Peter has been to Central Park once when he was younger, however because of the orphanage being located really far away, he never really came here before. He and the Avengers walk on one of the several main roads of the huge green park, the noise and traffic being completely drowned out by the various kinds of flora growing and blooming. 

When they first entered, there was literally no person in the whole park who didn’t look at them, people of all ages staring, taking pictures, wanting their stuff signed. Until Wanda lifted her arms into the air and a bright red blaze of magic bursts between the palm of her hands, sending a coat of dancing red mist floating all over the huge lawn. 

„What was that for?“ Peter asks the witch walking next to her, the red particles slowly disappearing. 

„Oh, just some spell distracting the people from us. It is quite helpful and doesn’t take up much of my energy.“ She answers, stretching her fingers with her other hand. 

„That’s really cool.“ Peter says, admiring the sight of the last red particles vanishing away with the slight breeze coming up. It is September and starting to get a little chilly, but in the sun, it’s warm enough, drawing the people into the green area of the city to enjoy the last rays.

They settle down on one of the larger grass planes, spreading out a blanket and dispersing all their stuff on it. 

„Oh my god, Tony, is that a pocket flask?“ Steve asks, scandalized, slapping the metal vessel out of the engineer’s hand. „You don’t just go and drink alcohol in public.“

„But Steve, it’s my replacement for not getting enough coffee this morning! Please! I need it!“ Tony whines and pleads, but Steve is persistent, shutting his eyes and tilting his chin up. Grumbling, Tony gets out a thermos and takes a long chug out of it, sighing in relief.

„Why do you have your own coffee?“ Pietro asks, plopping down between Tony and Clint. „It’s unfair.“

„For reasons, Pietro, for reasons. It’s mine and you ain’t getting nothing, squirt. Look, it even has my name printed on, deal with it.“ He points onto the Stark Industries logo on the thermos.

„It’s probably spiked, spiked really hard, you wouldn’t want to drink that stuff. And since it’s probably not with Vodka, you wouldn’t like it anyways–

„Stop the stereotypes.“ Pietro laughs and tackles Clint to the ground, tickling him.

„But it’s true! I am only displaying honest, true facts! Ahaha, Stop, oh my god.“ Clint wheezes and shoves the speedster away again. 

„Cut it, Pietro.“ Wanda says sternly, but her features soften as she sees her brother being happy.

Peter snorts and closes his eyes, enjoying the sun warming his face and body. 

„So, what do you usually do in your free time?“ Natasha changes the subject and all eyes are on Peter again. Suddenly turning a bit shy, he scratches the back of his head coyly.

„I used to do a lot of photography before the orphanage, but yeah, I accidentally broke my camera a few months ago and there is no way I could actually afford one.“ Peter smiles sadly, remembering the days he would climb up the highest skyscrapers in Manhattan to take beautiful pictures of the Skyline.

„Ohhh, interesting.“ She hums, leaning forward a bit. „So you want to be a photographer one day?“

„Well, yeah, I would really love to work for the newspapers when–

He is cut off by a loud, ear pricing scream cutting through the moderate volume in the park. Natasha, Clint and Steve are on their feet immediately, checking out the situation, their danger-radars in full action.

Tony, Pietro, Peter and Wanda follow soon after, jaws clenching, muscles tensing. 

„Oh shit.“ Ton exclaims before bringing his arm up to his face to talk into a mic in his watch. 

„Jarvis, bring ‘em here quick. Central park, usual spot. Hurry up, things are getting serious.“ Mere twenty seconds later, there is a small red and gold container approaching quickly in the sky, flying with the aid of four pairs of repulsors. It lands and automatically opens, revealing all the Avengers’ uniforms and weapons as well as Cap’s shield. 

„Quicksilver, go!“ Steve orders and within less than a second and a blue and white flash later, everybody is dressed upheld to toe, weapons at the ready and fully ready for battle. 

„Jesus, why do I always have to do this? It’s so embarrassing.“ Pietro groans halfheartedly and fixes his headpiece into a more comfortable position. 

„Nothing you can do about that, you’re the quick one. Jarvis, full-body-mode.“ Tony says, and the container with the trademark Iron Man colors transforms into an an armor, immediately wrapping itself around Tony’s frame. „Amazing, right? One of my newer inventions.“ Tony hums to Peter, his metal covered arm clapping the boy’s shoulder. In the meanwhile, people in the park have started a mass panik, everybody is screaming, running, wailing, crying. 

„Listen, Peter, I want you to leave this place as fast as you can, Don’t use the main roads, people are literally running each over now. Just stay calm and be careful, okay?“ Tony says quietly, his brows furrowed together tightly in concern, creating a deep wrinkle between them. „Promise me you’ll stay safe.“ Steve who has joined the two mumbles, tenderly pushing Peter’s hair out of his face to press a quick kiss to the teen’s forehead. 

The gesture makes Peter feel all warm and giddy inside, a fluttering tingle of happiness blooming in his chest and spreading through his whole body. They care about him. And it isn’t fake or pretend, it is genuine, real, existent, he can feel it. 

Despite the situation being not quite a happy one, it is the one and only way Peter is feeling ar the moment. Looking his dads into the eyes, mocha and ice blue, he holds their gazes and takes a breath before honestly saying: „ I promise, I’ll try my best.“ 

Reluctantly and almost in slow motion, the two Avengers let their son go and join the others who are giving Peter thumbs up or say some encouraging words. He waves one last time before disappearing in direction of the park borders, the cluster of trees swallowing him. 

∆

As much as he hates to, Peter know he will have to help the avengers as Spider-Man. Actually, e really doesn’t have to do anything, it is more that his morals won’t stop nagging him, always reminding him of things he would rather not think about at the moment. 

‚You don’t have to help them; After al, they are responsible for Manhattan too, aren’t they? No one is going to blame you if you don’t interfere this one time.‘ Peter thinks halfheartedly, but noooo. Of course the ‚If they get hurt it’s your fault because you could have helped them but didn’t‘-thought gains the upper hand. So Peter leaves the clusters of screaming, horrified people and dives behind a thick leaved bush, stepping out of his clothing and pulling the trusty red and blue spandex over his limbs and body, of course not without checking every few seconds if there wasn’t anybody around who could see him.

Thank god he decided to bring it with him today, he almost considered leaving it under the mattress. Adjusting his web shooters, he stuffs his clothes and shoes into his backpack and throws it into the bush so only he would find it later. 

Not losing a second, he fires to webs to the next trees and pulls himself forward, using the trees to fly over the ground at a very low height. He would often travel from A to B like this earlier since the neighborhood of the orphanage hardly had any tall buildings and he somehow had to reach the crime scene which was mostly located in Manhattan. 

Scooping up a crying child who has probably lost her mother, he flings himself up higher into the air (which lets the little dark-skinned girl emit a delighted squeal) and touches down next to a tear-streaked black lady, who is screaming for her daughter over and over, in one fluid motion.

Before she can thank him, Spider-Man is already gone, getting closer and closer to the source of what caused all the fear and panic. His heart skips a beat when he sees hundreds and hundreds of robots fighting against seven Avengers, flashes of blue, red and blinding white flickering and flashing between the huge masses of metal. Part of the robots are flying, part of can’t, but either way, the Avengers are helplessly outnumbered. Peter has to admit they are holding their ground pretty well, considering the situation, though. 

With a powerful tug on one of his webs, he launches himself into the air once more and smoothly lands on the ground behind Wanda to kick a robot in the head, the kick loaded with so much force it beheads the soulless creature. 

They don’t look like the Chitauri and also don’t really resemble Ultron’s robots, they are kind of in between, teeing to be more machine than animate beings, even. 

„May I assist you?“ Peter asks while webbing two more robots together, sending the toppling to the ground, trapped in an unbreakable prison. Pride swells in his chest when he realizes they aren’t able to break his webs apart.

As much as I hate to admit it, yes, we could use some of your help.“ Captain America calls, taking out four robots with a single roundhouse-kick.

„But he doesn’t even go here!“ Clint shouts, firing an arrow what hits a creature sneaking up on Iron Man about one hundred feet away right between the eyes. 

„Oh yeah?“ Spiderman replies, webbing two robots to their chins with his forearms crossed over. „Why are you wearing pink? It’s not wednesday!“ He pulls at the webs fiercely, two metallic heads clattering to his feet. 

„Thats not pink that’s purple–

„Cut the crap, fighting’s done without talking.“ Iron Man bellows, his repulsors firing one shot after the other at incredible speed. 

So they fight side by side, Peter assisting wherever he can, killing, protecting, preventing injuries as many times possible. The fight goes on for longer than three hours, and finally, the robots become less and less in number, but so does also the stamina and strength of the Avengers.

Peter’s arms and legs are becoming heavier and heavier with every punch he throws and every kick he delivers, the invisible weights weighing them down seem to get more massive with every second. He got hit in the stomach and ribs several times and he is pretty sure on of his lower ribs in fractured. Also, he pulled each one sinew on his right knee and inner thigh, making walking without limping incredibly hard.

The others are in a similar shape, all bruised and beaten up. 

Natasha and Pietro seem to be injured the least, however there is blood trickling from several shallow wounds all over their bodies and even faces and their movements and reflexes have become considerably slower than at the beginning of the battle. Peter could’ve sworn he’s been able to follow Pietro with his eyes as the Sokovian went into speed mode. Not a good sign.

Tony and Steve are in a pretty had shape as well, Tony’s armor having suffered greatly, dents and frighteningly deep scratches on every single metal plate it consisted of. One of his repulsors has been shattered, making flying complicated so he is fighting mostly on the ground now. 

Steve is bleeding from his mouth, the blood coloring his teeth pink and crimson, and a nasty black bruise is blooming on his cheekbone. He is limping severely when he thinks no one is looking and Peter can tell every movement is causing him pain. 

Wanda looks like she’s on the verge of fainting, and so does Clint. The Scarlet Witch has almost used up all her powers and it is visible she is heavily going into power save mode to not be completely defenseless. Used up are also all of Clint’s arrows, and he is obligated to fight with only a knife and his bare hands. Blood is streaming down his bare forearms since his knuckles are raw and open from punching hard metal. 

However on the brighter side of things, there still is Vision. He doesn’t seem to tire out at all, the blinding bright rays of the Mind Stone embedded into his forehead taking down as many robots as it did when the fight began.

Although Peter would love to just flee the scene and crash at Matt’s who would patch him up and take care of his wounds, he punches, kicks and webs every inch of metal coming into his personal space. 

After an other five minutes of killing the last remaining robots, the moment finally comes: Natasha disembodies the last robot with a cry so fierce and loud her voice is doubling over and it echoes back from the trees.

The park is now heavy with thick silence, the only sound to be heard is the panting and groaning of exhaustion coming equally from everyone (except Vision). The remains of the robots are scattered all over the grass; or actually, the scene should rather be described as ‚a few isolated blades of grass are peeking out underneath the huge piles of metal scraps, wires and robot heads. 

Peter is exhausted and so, so tired he can barely force himself to walk up to the Avengers assembling in the middle of the huge clearing to join them. Wanda is clinging to Clint, her fingers digging into his arms for support so hard her knuckles are white. Then suddenly, her gaze becomes unfocused and she topples to the ground, pulling Clint down with her. The archer, being in a similar state, isn’t able to hold her upright anymore and hits the ground hard. He doesn’t open his eyes again either.

The superheroes immediately rush to their sides, inspecting, taking pulse, talking softly to them. 

Pietro crouches down next to Clint, hectically strobing the archer’s face, muttering soft and desperate words in Sokovian, occasionally patting his cheek gently. Natasha kneels down next to the speedster and Vision lifts up Wanda, carefully fitting her tiny frame into his strong arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

„They are fine, don’t worry.“ Vision reassures the Avengers, especially directing his words at Pietro who’s waterlines are pricked with tears, his lower lip tumbling just like his whole lithe frame does. Peter can understand the pain the young man has to feel, seeing his sister and his lover in such terrible state.

„They passed out from exhaustion, pushing themselves too far in the battle. When they wake up, they are going to be the same as before, it will probably take a while for them to recover, though.“

Peter reflexively lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, trying to express his sentiment without his shaking voice betraying his distance to the situation. 

„Is there anything I can help you with?“ He asks, looking at every one of them. 

„Thank you for the offer, but we will be heading home now to cure everything out.“ Natasha says, sadness twisting it’s way on her always controlled and neutral features. She extends her hand into Peter’s direction. „Thank you for your assistance, Spider-Man. I think I speak in the name of everyone when I say it would have gone a lot worse without your help.“ 

Peters eyes widen with surprise behind his mask, and red spandex meets black leather gloves in a handshake so full of gratitude and thankfulness it makes his heart ache. 

„It was an honor, Black Widow. Get home safe. Hopefully the two will recover quickly.“ He salutes and swings away from the clearing. 

Finding back to his bush, he rapidly changes back into his civilian clothes, cursing under his breath when pain erupts in his leg like liquid fire and the stitched cut on his back opens painfully. His ribs are already healing due to his healing factor, but those sinews would take at least seven more hours to heal properly. 

Limping slightly, he reaches the border of he park and descends into the next train station. His exhausted hands are shaking so violently he nearly doesn’t manage to slide his metro ticket through the scanner. Luckily, there aren’t much people around at this time of day, it is Tuesday early afternoon, so nobody would glance at him weirdly for looking like some beat up, messy teen-junkie. The train ride as well as the walk home are uneventful, and the only thing Peter can think of is ‚don’t fall asleep, don’t fall asleep, don’t fall asleep.‘, the sentence blinking and buzzing in his mind the whole time. 

The sliding doors of the Avengers Tower part before him and the next thing he experiences is the sensation of four strong arms wrapping around him, pulling him close from two directions. 

„Peetey.“ Tony breathes against the boy’s hair, the billionaire not being a lot taller than the teen. To his surprise, his words are drenched with sorrow, relief and a hint of anger at the same time.

„We were so worried about you, where have you been?“ Steve’s large form is shaking, trembling with all the emotions building up in the super solider at once. A lump forms in Peter’s throat and he clings to his fathers like his life depended on it, craving heir warmth, their concern for him, their genuine love more than a human being craves oxygen. 

When he feels hot splashes of tears falling onto his unruly hair, he can’t hold in his own emotes anymore. Tears spill over his waterlines, freely running down his cheeks. 

They are tears of joy, happiness, adrenaline, but also ears of exhaustion, pain and the knowing he would have to lie to the two most important living people in his life. Letting out a shaky laugh, he wipes them away with his free hand.

„What does it matter, dad, pops, I’m alive and, more importantly, so are all of you!“ He nuzzles his head into Steve’s broad shoulder and places his hand on top of Tony’s arc reactor framing it with his fingers. 

He really wants to tell them, he really does, but in this moment, the moment he is sharing this kind of intimacy with his parents is so precious to him, like a butterfly trapped between cupped hands. You may take a peek at it as often as you want, but with opening up you risk the precious, rare beauty flying away, never to be caught again. 

And that is exactly what Peter is afraid of. Opening up to the max, 100%, revealing them his most precious and guarded secret. He is afraid of losing them, losing this, losing everything they had build up in such a short time. 

But for now, everything’s okay. Peter thinks he can stay like this, wrapped up in his dad’s and pops’ arms, protected, accepted, loved. 

At least for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, folks!
> 
> Let's see if I can bring out that next chap before my holidays end!
> 
> More Deadpool in the next one since I know, I know, this fic has serious lack of him!
> 
> See ya in the next Upd8!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops by*
> 
> *drops chapter*
> 
> *crawls back to hell WHERE SHE FREAKING BELONGS*
> 
> Hey everyone! 
> 
> God, it's been four weeks! Sorry for not upd8ting for a long long loooong time ;(
> 
> I Don't really like the way this one turned out, but at least there is some plot happening! *Gasp*
> 
> And heey, chaps will be upd8ted much more frequently from now on! *COUGH* Believe me, folks, I'll try ;3
> 
> Anyway, enough of my boring notes, have the chap! ;)
> 
> ENJOY! (Or not haha)

The atmosphere back in Stark Tower is terrible, it feels like a thick, heavy coat of gloominess and depression has been thrown over the whole building, causing every inhabitant to feel down and sad.

The Avengers are on their usual hang-around floor again, scattered across the room, their voices hushed, expressions exhausted and thoughtful. The usual laughter, banter and occasional pranking and light sarcasm is gone, vanished and made room for grieving and heavy silence.

Peter knew the Avengers have strong bonds of friendship binding them together, but for everyone to be this affected by the two unconscious and hurt team members shows they are so much more than just friends and proves that they really do care and feel for each other genuinely and it's not just some kind of marketing-thing they do for the newspapers and public to keep their images up.

Steve and Tony are seated at the mini bar, lounging on the high stools with their bodies resting on the counter tiredly, talking about the earlier attack. Peter sees Tony absolutely doesn't want to, but Steve seems to be eager to discuss the new mysteries with somebody and there is no way rejecting those steel blue puppy eyes once the super solider pulls them off.

Peter sits a armchair a little to their right, however he is still in earshot and can hear the slightly confused words they are sharing.

"Where on earth did those robots come from?" Steve muses, with his hand wearily rubbing over the side of his face, a deep frown on the center of his forehead where his pale eyebrows are knitted together. 

"I hate to admit it, but I honestly have no idea." Tony mumbles, reaching over the counter to pull out a half full bottle of scotch. He takes a long, generous gulp before putting it down again. "It's like somebody summoned them there an just left again. It's really weird. Most villains stay at the scene to watch us fight and bleed and get hurt in their sick sadistic ways, but this? Man, this doesn't make a lick of sense." Tony replies, confusedly scratching his back and occasionally throwing worried looks at Wanda, Pietro and Peter (He tries to mask them as random 'checkin' on the team'-looks, Peter can tell).

"Whatever it was, we at least should collect some robot parts and analyze them in your lab, don't you think? Maybe it could help finding out something about their creator and origin." Steve suggests and reaches for the bottle as well, pouring himself a generous amount into a glass (because he's classy and doesn't drink from the bottle, of course). 

"I'd need Banner to help me though... Too bad he's not coming back till tomorrow." The genius sighs with fake regret. His eyes widen when he sees Steve drink his beloved scotch. "And what do you think you are doing, Mister? Are you just stealing my alcohol right now? You can't even get drunk!"

"Can't help it, Tony, you drink too much!" Steve smiles warmly and the couple drifts in their usual playful arguing.

Peter decides not to eavesdrop on them any further and his attention drifts to Natasha, Pietro and Thor who are who are watching over Wanda and Clint. He stands up and joins them, leaning against the glass facade next to Natasha. 

While the assassin shows her typical, motionless pokerface, Thor and Pietro are helplessly heartbroken, the young Sokovian alternately sitting on passed out Avenger's couches, stoking their hair and faces carefully while mumbling soft hushed Sokovian. 

Thor is sitting on a chair the wrong way round and is very passionately monologuing about how he is going to 'demonstrate his wrath and smite the people who dared to hurt his dearest of friends'. 

And by the way a blinding bright bolt of lightning cracks in the perfectly blue sky, Peter is pretty sure he will get his revenge.

He takes a look at Natasha again. She is staring ahead with her gaze fixed on the unconscious heroes and her face still doesn't betray any emotion besides the slightest twitch of muscle in her jaw tightening. Sometimes, Peter really wants to know what she is thinking, the read headed Russian is such a complex and mysterious-in-every-possibly-way woman. 

"Geez, Pietro, stop fussing all over them like that! How many times do I have to tell you?" She suddenly snaps, losing her temper with the white haired Sokovian. He jolts at the sudden harshness of her words and immediately stops his actions, even he with his sassy behavior wouldn't dare to oppose her. You don't simply mess with the Black Widow or she'll castrate you in her sleep and you won't even notice, Peter leaned from Clint very soon. 

Pietro flops down onto the thin strip of ground in between the sofas instead, the corners of his mouth still pulled down as far as they can go.

"Does this happen often?" Peter asks into the silence, gesturing towards the sofas, curious about Natasha's sudden outburst.

Injuries? Yes. Passing out... No, although it is usually Clint and Wanda who do since Clint's only human and Wanda's powers feed from her physical energy and she still has to learn how to control them." Her full lips twist into a sad smile and her forest green eyes soften, love and tenderness pooling in them. "They always get in trouble, those uncareful idiots." She says, a surprising amount of fondness and warmth Peter would never have expected in her words.

"Why don't you want Pietro worrying about Wanda and Clint?" Peter asks after a while when he sees Pietro is still sprawled out on the floor motionless. 

"It's not wrong to grieve or be worried when somebody close to you is injured or gets hurt. But, when you live the lives we do, it sadly tends to happen a lot, every day if you're unlucky." She begins, raking a hair through her copper locks, pushing them out if her face. 

"Clint and I... Before we joined the Avengers, we were top Agents working under Shield. We were sent out on a lot of very difficult missions, some of them were even titled suicide missions because there was almost no chance of getting out alive. So we both were injured, were carried home unconscious and so on, more often so than not. All those years taught me that worrying is human and a totally normal feeling, but when you do this kind of business, too much worry eats you up, slowly makes you hate the job and spiral into depression. I try to make Pietro and Wanda understand, since they are still very young and I don't want them to be mentally scarred any further."

Peter nods and turns forward again, being glad that Natasha isn't the cold hearted Widow everybody assumed her to be.

"Why not tell him directly?" 

"Because I don't like revealing myself to others." She smiles and turns to Peter and pinches his cheeks. "Don't tell anyone, okay? Cutie Pie youuu." She coos and Peter squeaks embarrassingly high. 

"Oh my god, Natasha, stop!" He whines and the redhead walks over to Pietro, chuckling, to lean down ruffle his messy white mop. There is strangled giggle escaping the Sokovian's throat. Apparently, Natasha's cuddling is extremely rare but very much appreciated.

"What? It is not Movie-Friday and Nat is cuddling people and nobody is bothering to tell me? You guys are are heartless. Nat, I want a hug tooo." Tony whines from the counter and extends his arms.

"Still four days to go, hun, it's still Tuesday." Natasha winks and sits down onto a chair far away from him. 

Meanwhile, Peter eyes widen when he realizes: it is Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon. Which mean patrol. Which means he has to get the hell out of here. Soon.

He's lucky he only has patrol once or twice a week, Matt has his connections and insisted on taking over the main part since Peter was technically still a child. Peter insisted on more since he actually enjoyed helping people or the police by detecting and fighting crimes, however Matt had not given an inch.

Peter mentally groans and sighs, there is no way he can call Matt to take over, he'd done that way too often recently and he didn't really know other superheroes. 

God damnit.

Looks like he will have to wiggle his way out of the whole situation. Again.

"Uhmm Pops?" He asks in his most casual 'Dad I need 50 bucks'-voice.

"What is it, Peter?" Steve smiles warmly, looking up from his conversation with Tony.

"Is it okay if I went for, like, a walk? I kinda need to clear my head from everything that has been happening." Peter says, crossing his fingers as hard as he could, praying they would let him go.

He almost sighs in relief when the super solider's features soften and his gentle smile widens.

"Of course you can. Just make sure you don't stay out too long. And don't go into the dark alleys! And be careful with–

"Steve." Tony complains and rolls his eyes before winking at the teen. "Try to suppress that mother hen in you! He'll be fine, don't worry." 

"Thanks daddies!" Peter breathes in relief and, after a shoulder squeeze from Steve, takes off to the elevator.

∆

Peter swings from skyscraper to skyscraper, the muscles of his whole body still sore from the fight earlier, protesting and aching; but he really needs something to clear his mind and ease the negative attitude he currently has whenever he thinks about what happened to Wanda and Clint though, and swinging around in town in red and blue spandex is kinda his thing. 

A few blocks later, he decides to stay closer to the ground as his arms grow a bit weary, he doesn't want to take any chances and get himself killed because he slipped off his own web.

Suddenly, there is a smudge of a red flashing in the corner of his eyes, and mere seconds later, a high pitched voice is squealing "Spidey!" at a deafening volume. 

A pair of black boots kick him in the side, grazing his left web shooter, and the impact is so powerful (and oh God, painful) Peter is forced to let his web go, his knuckles popping as they are being forcefully torn off the thread as he tries to shield his body.

He and the asshole (Yeah, Peter can curse too, when he wants to) tumble to the ground at frightening speed, and to the arachnid's horror, he realizes he probably won't be able to catch the body since his web shooter seems to have broke due to the impact. Which is fatal, since he'll need exactly both of them for rescuing said asshole.

Cursing some more under his breath, he webs the closest building and pulls himself close, sticking to the glass before powerfully pushes himself off of it. Blinding pain explodes in his leg, but he ignores it, has to, he isn't going to make it, he has to be faster, quicker, oh god, he is hitting the ground, NO-

Splat.

Peter's eyes widen in horror and snap shut again when he catches a glimpse of all the blood and... Other nasty stuff on the sidewalk, he can hear and see people screaming, fainting, running for their lives. Taking a deep breath, he finds the courage to open them again, reluctantly, hesitantly, to face the situation, but the sight greeting him makes him shout out loudly and snap them shut again, turning his head away immediately. 

"Sup, Spidey. Nice seeing you too!" 

Deadpool is lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his torso facing upwards while his lower body is downwards, his spine clearly broken. His masked eyes are turning into smiling white crescents, but his voice is becoming wobbly and uneven towards the end of the sentence.

Peter takes an other breath, calming himself down, trying to fight down the adrenaline, surprise, rage pooling inside his body, but nope, here he goes.

„What the hell, Deadpool?“ Peter cries/shouts out angrily, bile rising into the back of his throat when he realies he almost stepped onto a shiny sticky pink part of the merc’s *something*. 

He had seen a lot of deaths and injuries in his short life, turtler, evisceration, nasty burns, but this is on a completely different level. Deadpool is still living, for gods sake and– ‚oh god, better not think about it anymore’, Peter thinks when he feels the contents of his breakfast rising up into his esophagus again. 

„Rude, Spidey, I would have never thought you to be so discriminating! Only because I’m different. Is the outside everything to you? Are you one of those to who would back away once you see everything of me? I have to say, I am on the verge of tears.“ Deadpool sighs tragically and Peter would be totally sure the merc would theatrically throw his arm in front of his forehead or some bullshit if he could actually move. 

„I just wanted to get your attention.“ The red suited mercenary pouts, and his voice is so weak and pained Peter manages to fold his hands in front of his chest instead of turning around to run off to Mexico. He sighs and crouches down next to the merc, trying to ignore the splitters of broken ribs piercing the tender flesh under his arms. Gross.

Deadpool groans a few times in attempt to move, however he doesn’t really manage. 

„Spidey? You mind doing me a teeny tiny favor?“ Peter slaps himself mentally for not leaving the first chance he got. Curse him for always being a tad too kind hearted.

„What.“ He huffs, shifting his weight a little. He’s a little uncomfortable what the merc will ask him next. 

„Could you maybe… like, turn one part of my body around? It’s kinda Red alert here, I’m starting to heal back together again.“ He says when he pinky cracks back into place, straightening again with an ugly snap.

„Jesus, I really should have left when I had the chance.“ Peter replies exasperatedly and buries his face inside both of his hands.

Okay, Peter don’t freak out, you’ve got this. All you need to do is turn that glop of 200 pounds mercenary body around and then you can leave; breathe, Peter, breathe, inhale, exhale, there you go. 

„God, what did I ever do to deserve this?“ He whines and stands up, placing his feet on each side of Deadpool’s muscular torso. 

„Nice angle.“ The merc says suggestively and Peter loses his temper. 

„This is really not an appropriate time.“ He scolds, grabbing the mere under the armpits in a tight iron grip. 

„Oh, but it would be okay if I did it in an other situation?“

„Shut up.“ Peter grits out, fighting down the blush creeping up his cheeks, flipping around the torso with maybe a bit too much force. 

Oops.

He hits the ground with a loud smack and Peter has to resist the urge to retch again when the sickening sound of bones shattering and crunching adds up to the popping and sticky noise of skin and cartilage shifting. God, he is never, ever doing this again. 

He really hopes he broke the merc’s nose for that last comment though.

„Geet, that was pretty rough, don’t you think?“ Deadpool’s muffled voice gasps, his face mushed against the sidewalk. „Couldn’t you have flipped my legs around? Would have been a hellluva more practical.“ 

„No way!“ Peter blurts and immediately steps away from the body. „I am not touching your neither regions in public.“

„But you’d like to, am I right, Babe?“ Deadpool teases, his broad smirk audible in his cocky words.

„That’s it, I’m so out of here.“ Peter states determinately and turns on his heels. God, Deadpool isn’t ust a cold hearted merc, he is probably the most insufferable person he has ever met. Why is Peter even bothering to stay in the guy’s presence longer than necessary? Damn, his head hurts.

Taking one determined step after the other, ignoring Deadpool’s damsel in distress-calls, the painful jabs at the back of his brain turn into a less aching thrumming and eventually dies down to a tingling and Peter almost slams his fist down onto his thigh in annoyance. 

No way. Why can’t one freaking day be a peaceful one? Why does this have to happen righ now, when he is obviously injured and just wants to clear his mind for an hour or two? Okay, okay, it's patrol, but he's just trying to pretend for a second, okay?  
Best. Day. Ever. 

NOT.

„Wait up, Spidey! Give me five minutes and I’ll heal together again!“ Deadpool calls when he hears Peter shoot a web at the next building. „There’s a crime somewhere, I don’t have the time for waiting around.“ Peter replies strictly but turns around nevertheless. 

„I know, Spidey, that’s the reason I tackled you to the ground! I have followed the baddies for a long time and researched some stuff about them. They are members of some organization, a huge organization, but they are stupid, not good at covering their tracks. Do you really think I would just randomly tackle you out of the sky? Okay yes, I admit, that is something I totally do–

„And why would I need your help, of all people?“ Peter replies, cocking his head to the side. 

„Becaaauuse,“ Deadpool drawls, drawing out the word, smirking, obviously to rub it in Peter’s face. „I saw you on television! You got pretty banged up, kid, and the Avengers did too. Don’t you think you might need a little help? Maybe some backup? A partner? A trusty helping han–

„Alright, Alright, I understand, quit rubbing salt in the wound.“ Peter snaps and rolls his eyes behind his mask. He doesn’t want to work with together with Deadpool, he really doesn’t. He hates the guy, he is an annoying idiot.

But as much as his inside churn at the thought of admitting he actually needs the mercenary’s help, he has to confess that there is a small hidden part of him that is actually relieved he asks. 

„Fiiine.“ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Deadpol whoops and to Peter’s surprise he has already rolled over onto his back. 

After an other minute of waiting, Deadpool is already crawling around to collect some guns and knives that have been scattered across the sidewalk as he… fell, sliding them back into their proper places.

„Ready?“ Peter asks and even offers the merc a hand so he can stand. Seriously, what the hell. 

„You bet.“ Deadpool smirks and takes it, hoisting himself up. Cracking a few joints here and there, he catches up to the teen who has already started jogging agead. 

„Let’s go unalive the bastards.“

∆

They have ben running through the streets of Soho for about five minutes when suddenly Peter’s Spider sense sends an especially powerful spark to the back of his head. He tells Deadpool to halt in front of a tiny, dark bar with a staircase leading into the basement. The sign is weathered and shabby and the cheap leds embedded into the sign probably aren’t working. It is a grubby and run-down place, probably only visited by chain-smoking mafia creeps who dig this sort of thing and do their deals there.

„My, my, what a lovely place!“ Deadpool exclaims, pressing his black gloved hands to his cheeks like a japanese schoolgirl. „Too bad the baddies have already entered, we are too late!“

‚And who’s fault is that?‘ Peter thinks but then sees the crowbar imprints against the wooden door, fresh light brown against clipped off midnight blue. „Well then, let’s get this over with.“

They barrel into the bar, side by side, weapons raised, web shooters at the ready. Turns out they have just arrived at the right moment after all. Three men with black masks (again, Peter thinks, having a deja-vu from the day before.) are cornering the shopkeeper (also familiar) against the counter, threatening him with a gun pressed down deep into the soft, wrinkled skin of the middle aged men’s neck.

„Please, I swear, I don’t know what you are talking about!“ The shopkeeper pleads, voice thin and shaky, his frame trembling. A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes when he sees the two red clad rescuers. The two heroes lose no time and dart forward, side by side, kicking two thugs into their guts, sending them flying away from the shop keeper. The third taises his weapon and aims, the half automatic gun rapidly firing one bullet after the other, the arm rattling and cracking at deafening volume. 

Peter instinctively foresees the bullets' impacts and skillfully twists his body out of the way, but Deadpool had no such sense, he is hit by several, the metal piercing his skin easily, blood gushing out of the wounds, dripping onto the floor. 

„Fuck.“ The merc curses under his breath and shoots at the third baddie who ducks behing the counter quickly. 

„Deapool no!“ Peter says, slapping the mercenary’s hand „You are not killing anybody on my watch!“ He clarifies and can’t suppress the angry, hard undertone creeping into his sentence.

„Why not? These men have taken a lot of lives themselves! They are bad guys. Bad bad guys. Why do you even care?“ The mercenary shouts back, aiming his gun at the counter where the thug and the shopkeeper probably hiding. 

„I- I have my reasons, okay? Just don’t kill anyone.“ Peter says, adding a slight plead to his voice. 

Deadpol gives him a long stare the teen can’t quite point out. Then, eventually, he twirls the gun in his hands last time and tucks them back into his thigh holsters. 

„Fine.“ He deadpans, cracking his knuckles to warm up for the upcoming man-on-man fist fight. „Listen, don’t know what all this ‚don’t kill‘-attitude is all about, but I’m not donna let them just run away. They are dangerous and have to at least be put into jail. You fine with that?“

Peter nods, grateful there is no sarcasm or looking down in Deadpool’s voice. He turns forward again when one of the masked men they’ve kicked away lifts himself to his feet and lifts his gun, aiming for the arachnid’s head. 

Ducking away quickly, he falls onto all fours and kicks the other one, who has snuck up on him in the meanwhile, bat heavy in his hands, in the knee. With a sickening crunch, signalizing he has effectively broken the kneecap or at least popped it out, he goes to the floor, yelling and cursing in pain, cradling his leg. 

Peter finches when pain erupts in the inside of his lef again, unnecessarily reminding him that the choice of kick wasn’t all to wise. He jumps to his feet anyway when the third bad guy decides to take him out one on one. The gun isn’t in his hands anymore, so they fight hand to hand, throwing punches, delivering kicks, the usual routine. 

His opponent is skilled, very skilled, he has the same lithe form and wiry body Peter has and he can hold his own surprisingly well. Peter curses when a fist grazes his cheek ever so slightly, it is nothing more than a hint, but it shows the teen that he is starting to slack. 

He changes tactics, moving back with every hit he catches or dodges to pretend he is becoming weaker. That is, until his back bumps into Deadpool’s broader one, causing him to jolt and scare the crap out of him. The elder man is fighting off the bulkier one, earch of them getting hit by a fair share of strikes as both of them tend to lack on defense and almost rely solely on their physical strength. (And no, Peter absolutely didn't analyze Deadpool's fighting style.)

They go on, back to back, and he has to say, he enoys fighting side by side with the merc, they move together so smoothly like they’ve been practicing it over years. Their movements match perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle, they have each other’s backs, making space for the other when one of them is being pushed back, shouting out warnings in cast the other didn’t notice the a blow or kick coming. 

It is easier, a lot, relaxing even, being able to rely on someone else instead of having to take care of everything alone, Peter thinks when he spots an opening in his opponents defensive pattern. He immediately exploits it and lets the side of his hand smack against against his neck. The masked guy’s eyes lose focus and he goes limp, hitting the floor with a soft thud. 

He twirls around quickly to assist Deadpool, webbing the thug's arm flying towards the mercenary’s head, pulling it down. The guy clearly didn’t expect the intervention in their fight, surprise flickering in his eyes, and Deadpool immediately takes the hint and places a very hard punch to the bulky guys temple, knocking the lights out of the thug. 

It turns completely silent in the bar, except the occasional whimper from the guy with the busted knee. 

Deadpool rubs his palms together happily, chuckling when he leans down next to the body with an evil smirk. 

„Oooh, what have we here?“ He purrs and grabs a fistful of the man’s hair, yanking his head up with one forceful motion, causing him to cry out in pain. 

„Who sent you?“ The mercenary hisses, pulling the man close so that their nones almost graze each other. 

„I- I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please! Let me go!“ The man pleads, his voice trembling, breaths coming out in short, shallow pants. 

„Oh, I’m not so sure about that, hon.“ Deadpool insists, drawing out a shimmering knife from a hidden holster inside of his boot, pressing it up to the man’s throat, not enough to do serious damage, but enough to draw blood, the sticky, strong scented fluid pooling in the dip of the man’s collarbones. He whimpers and desperately tries to crane his neck away from the persistent metal blade cutting further and further into the tender flesh. 

„Tell me and we’ll let you run.“ Peter says, stepping up behind the mercenary. Deadpool sighs and slowly lays his knife to the ground, raising his hands above his head. 

„You heard him. Tell us and you’re free.“

The thug barks out a hoarse laughter and spits on the ground in contempt. „Oh, yeah, right, and I should believe that.§ He says, bristling in anger. „If I tell you what I know now, they are gonna hunt me down, cut the entrails out of my body and send them to my family. Fried.“

„Look, we’ve been picking up a trail on your boss and are trying to find out what he is up to. Once we do, we and the Avengers are going to put an end to him and your problems will be solved. Your input could help us a lot.“ Peter tries. 

„Not gonna happen, kid. I’d rather bite my tongue off than sell him out. You have no idea what he can do. His spies are everywhere, and they find you immediately.“

Suddenly, a black gloved fist connects with his stubbled jaw, causing his head to whip back and crash to the floor. He cries out in pain, and writhes on the ground as his knee takes a awkward position. 

Before Deadpool can hurt him any further (and Peter is pretty sure he will), he presses some of the pressure points on the man’s neck and sends him into unconsciousness quickly and painlessly (a practical skill he learnt from Matt). 

„Aww Spidey, you’re no fun.“ Deadpool sighs and picks up his knife, wiping it off on his suit before sliding it back into his boot. 

„There’s no fun in torture.“ Peter replies, his voice suddenly turning ice cold. He knows the merc is probably just joking, but he can’t stop himself from reacting since he is positive there is some truth in the words, especially when they come from the mercenary. How could he even joke about that topic? Maybe he doesn’t mind it much since killing people is kind of a daily chore to him. Maybe Matt was wrong. Deadpool really doesn’t care about other lives and would do anything to archive his goals, no matter how wrong, filthy and sinful it was.

„I know what you think of me.“ Deadpool’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence, accompanied with the familiar sound of bodies being dragged across the wooden ground. 

„What?“ Peter asks and quickly turns around; He has been so deep inside his thoughts he notice the merc carrying on with business. „I can see it at the way you look at me.“ He starts, dropping the body next to the other like a sack of flour. „Bout all the mercenary business, me killing people like is a total okay think to do.“

Peter silently watches as he flings the third body on top of the other two, creating a small pile of limbs.

„I know, the impression I make isn’t really the best, and, believe me, I really don’t blame you for… you know, thinking I’m a huge asshole.“ He gets out a huge role of duct-tape out of his pouch, ripping off a generous amount, the trademark riiiip-sound echoing back from the tiled walls. He begins to tape the baddie’s mouths shut. 

„It’s common, you know. People thinking bad of me. I get that a lot. They say a lot of stuff, like I’m cold-hearted.“ 

Riiip.

„Sadistic.“

Riiip.

„Schizoprenic.“

Riiip.

„Or me being scum.“

„But I guess it’s normal when you have some guy like me killing people for a job. Most people would rather be homeless or in helpless debt than end up on the path I chose.“ Ripping off more tape, he grabs the bodies and lines them up, mechanically and skillfully beginning to tie them together. Peter frowns for a second, asking himself what the hell the merc is going to do with these bodies, but he doesn’t want to mis anything the red clad antihero is about to say, he hates to admit it, but he is quite hooked and burns to find out about the mercanary’s character. 

„One would wonder why I chose to be a mercenary. Why not choose something else? Fry burgers at McDonalds?“ He continues he ramble still not looking at Peter. „I guess it’s just to… punish myself. For chances I I missed. People I couldn’t save. Bad decisions I’ve done that led to others getting hurt. I feel like I have to do this. To compensate the mistakes I did, not by doing good deeds, but by punishing myself. Because believe it or not, I do care about the people I kill. Did they have family? Kids? Loved ones? Even bad people deserve to have things they love and are attached to, I guess.“ 

He stands up and dusts off his suit, tucking away the duct-tape into his pouch again. Peter, who is still kind of struck by the deep monologue the merc shared with him, slowly looks down Deadpool’s body till his gaze sticks to the victims and the way they are tied together. 

„What the hell is that?“ He blurts, eyes widening when a suspicious resemblance to a certain movie pops up in his head.

„Oh, you mean this fine piece of art? Just a human centipede. Take it as a metaphor for shitty thinks that happen in different stages in life. Get it? Cause you know they have to shit in each other’s–

He is cut off by Peter snorting and shaking his head in disbelief. God, he is so confused right now. Who would have thought his image of Deadpool would be turned around completely by only one single ramble? „Why would you do this? I mean I get the metaphor but you just could have tied them up normally.“ He laughs, a small smile lasting on his features.

„So that they don’t run awaaaay.“ The merc whispers into the teen’s ear and the huskiness of his voice totally doesn’t send shivers down the arachnid’s spine. Nope. It doesn’t. 

„Anyhoo, Sipdey, we gotta hit the road, there will be cops flooding this place soon.“

Peter nods and Pushes himself away from the counter. „So you said they belong to some kind of bigger organization?“ He asks curiously, opening the door of the bar, evening sunlight flooding the messed up place, revealing how much damage they have actually caused. He winces a little at the sight of broken stools, deep scratches in the woden floors and almost-dried splatters of blood painting the floor and wall with a nasty dark red. 

„Yeah. The crime rate has gone up considerably in the last weeks and there have been at least five incidents that can be connected.“

„How?“ Peter asks, curious.

„In every crime, the baddies were threatening the shopkeeper (ours unfortunately got away, again), as if he had something and they were trying to receive it. I think they’re working for some master-plan that is about to hatch. Gonna be nasty if you ask me. Like Ocean’s Eleven, but with more blood and supernatural stuff.“ Deadpool muses, getting out an incredibly old Nokia cellphone. 

„Shut up, It’s called class and it fulfills it’s purpose. It can kill people too, you know, if it’s hard on hard, you can shove your petty IPhones up where the sun doesn’t shine, they break when you tickle it with a feather.“ He snorts when he sees Peter’s exaggerated weirded out look. They both laugh and the merc clenches his cell between his shoulder and ear and checks his thigh and belt holsters for any guns or weapons missing. 

Peter doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to be able to tear his gaze away from the merc. the way he gesticulates as he tries to tell the place of crime to the police, the way the late afternoon sun kisses his rock hard abs and pectorals, the way the tight red suit hugs his toned body oh so perfectly makes something stur low in his gut, a little spark of butterflies rising up all the way into his chest and spreading through his whole body, a short, warm movement of bliss–

Wait. No.

What is happening here? Peter almost angrily tears his gaze away from Deadpool (he has a hard tim doing it, though) and clenches his fists so hard his knuckles pop. 

He knows he is bi, he only recently discovered he was attracted to both women and men, however it is not his bi-ness that bothers him, (it never has so far), it is the fact he is seriously looking up a guy he is actually suppose to hate. Loath even. This is not right, When the hell is he doing? Deadpool stands for everything Peter is afraid of becoming, but at the same time, the inight he got into the man’s actual personality–

„Spidey?“ Deadpool’s playful tone tears him out if his thoughts. God that voice. It makes the tension of his sholders melt away although he really tries to ight against it. 

„You okay? A bit tense there, aren’t you?“ He asks, laying a heavy gloved hand on the teen’s shoulder. 

„I’m fine.“ Peter manages to croak out, jumping slightly at the sudden touch.

„Fine then! Just don’t want you going all dark-side after our glorious victory!“ He winks and (To Peter’s relief and regret at the same time) lets go of his shoulder. „We should be going, the police will be here soon and unless you want to be interrogated for half an hour I suggest we get the hell outta here.“

Peter nods in agreement -interrogations were the worst- and regretfully sighs when he remembers his web shooter being broken. The way home won’t be peachy, that is for sure.

„Goodbye, then?“ He says, but there is a hint of a rise in his voice at the end, betraying his insecurity about talking with the man he totally didn’t check out a few minutes earlier.

„Sure. I’m heading to the south, crashing by a friend, any chance you’re living somewhere there too?“ He asks, absent-mindedly rubbing his neck. 

„Sorry, I live in the North.“ Peter replies, fidgeting with his web-shooters as a heavy, uncomfortable silence settles between them again. 

„We have to do this more often, you know?“ Deadpool says out of he blue, propping a hand onto his hip and gesticulating with the other. „We made a pretty doog team back then, don't you think?“ He says, a small spark of… pride? swelling in his voice. The white eyes in his mask crinkle into joyful crescents and Peter can’t help the wide smile stretching over his face when the feelings of union, trust and protection he felt while fighting side by side with the merc flood him. 

„Yeah. I have to admit we really weren’t half bad back them.“ He smirks and by the stretch of the merc’s red and black mask he knows he’s smiling too.

„Well then, see you around, Deadpool.“ Peter breaks the silence, attempting to turn around to swing off. 

„It’s Wade.“ The merc says, and Peter turns around, frowning.

„What?

„My name. It’s Wade Wilson. You can still call me Deadpool if you want though.“ 

Peter raises his eyebrows, heat rushing to his cheeks. Revealing your name as an anonymous superhero is quite a big deal and not something you do every day. It is something special, one signalizes the trust he has in the other when giving away his real name.

Wade. Wade Wilson. Peter repeats the words in his head, tossing them around, intoning them in the most different of ways, angrily, happily, wondering what the name would sound like when Peter himself said them, crying it when he alerted the merc from gunfire, breathing it in relief when he’d see him after a long period of being apart, moaning it when the mercs chapped lips were pressed up against his– NOPE.

‚Your mind is not wandering there again, Peter.‘ He chides himself, fighting down the heavy blush climbing up his throat to the high rise of his cheekbones. 

„I’m Peter.“ He says, maybe a tad too quickly, almost having to bite off his tongue to not accidentally let his last name slip. His name is probably all over the internet and news now, he really doesn’t want to take any chances. 

„See ya around, Peety!“ Deadpool calls cheerfully and jogs off, and Peter doesn't even bother that the merc gave him a nick name immediately. 

Attempting a half-assed wave, his fingers curling into his palm slowly, he swings off with only one web shooter intact, but he manages, he had worse. 

His arms and muscles function automatically, precisely, almost as if they weren't tired at all, pulling, flinging, webbing, sticking. His mind, however, is a jumbled, confused mess, different thoughts buzzing through his head, creating a huge, annoying and confusing chaos. And, of course, they are all centered around a specific red clad mercenary.

His stomach does this weird flip-thing again at the mention of Wade, and everything confuses him even more.

Why on earth is he reacting this way? He is so confused and puzzled. He shouldn't be feeling like this, he shouldn't be attracted to a man like Wade, who stands for everything Peter hates in people, just thinking about the way the merc kills people cold blooded makes the flutter turn into a painful twist. 

On the other hand, Peter would be a completely ignorant, judging bastard if he hadn't noticed the bad mental state the merc is in. Peter doesn't pity him, he out of all people knows best that pity isn't what mentally unstable people are seeking, but a small, small part of him, still minimal but painfully present, cares about it, is curious, wants to... Wants to help, somehow. 

Apparently, Wade has a past stained by a lot of bad choices and terrible experiences, and for some reason, Peter wants to be there for the merc, as... As a friend, aiding him to fix the gaping wounds torn into his soul, to try to help him getting over it, to sooth the pain he can relate to. 

The arachnid sighs deeply and with an especially hard tug on his single web, he sticks to the glass if the Stark Tower in a single a bit not so smooth as he is used to motion. He shakes his head slightly as if to get rid of the mess flooding his mind.

He opens the window to his room and slides in, almost crashing to the floor when exhaustion takes all the force out of his legs. 

"God damnit." He grits out between clenched teeth, hissing when he realizes he is completely overworked and sore and tired and his stitches are strained again, leaking a few droplets of blood.

His healing factor might be far above the one of a regular human, but tearing a cut open repeatedly takes a better healing factor to heal. 

The throbbing in his thighs and arms return and within the next few seconds, Peter finds himself sprawled out in his bed, suit still on, and on the verge of falling asleep. 

He reminds himself that this is not the orphanage and he has to be god damn careful about his Secret identity, so he shimmies out of his suit and slips off his web shooters when he notices a small folded piece of paper lying on the ground. 

Frowning deeply, he picks it up and unfolds it, the wrinkle between his brows becoming even deeper when a few smudged bloodied fingerprints are all over it. 

But what is scribbled onto the blood makes him chuckle and blush a little. A phone number with several digits crossed out and corrected is written down onto it with crayon, and a shitty cartoon with Deadpool wearing a fancy apron says 'Call me when your nights get lonely.'

Peter huffs a laugh and lays it down onto his nightstand and heads for the shower. 

Half an hour later and changed into a fresh loose shirt and sweatpants (god, he has missed the feeling, he really has to try to find an opportunity to wash his suit sometime), he remembers the Avengers. He should say good night, right?

So he makes his way to the floor two stories down. He finds the rest of his own family sitting together, talking in a much more lighthearted tone, Thor telling them about one one of his endless stories about the various perilous battles he has fought in his younger years. To his surprise, they all hug him tightly (Thor almost rips his stitches again) and after checking up on Clint and Wanda a last time (sadly, they are still unconscious), he heads up into his room again. 

When he finally can sink into the soft heavenly feeling of his bed, he checks his phone for any texts, e-mails or calls. 

Then, his Spider-sense tingles again. 

"God no!" He almost shouts and buries his head underneath his pillow, trying to block out the tingle, tearing at his hair in frustration. Seriously, what is it with all the crime happening lately?

He doesn't want to fight crime again, he really doesn't, and actually, although he's absolutely not admitting it, he can't afford it. He needs sleep for his entire sore body to heal up, he needs rest for every injury and muscle he pulled during the fight against the robots to heal properly, and going out today would be a really, really bad idea. 

He sighs deeply and scrolls through his list of contacts (not many) but decides he can't stoop so low and ask others for help again. 'Ah, screw it.' He thinks and types in a new number leaning back into the pillows.

"Hello? Who's calling? If you're that barista, I have no idea how you got my number and I don't know how many times I have to tell you, that kid is not my son–

"Oh god, I shouldn't have called." Peter groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, but there is a faint smile on his face.

"Peety?" Wade asks, a bit too much amazement in his voice. 

"Yeah, who would have thought? Why the hell did you slip the number into my suit? You could've just asked."

"Not how I roll, hun, suck it up." Wade chuckles at the other end of the line, and Peter feels heat rushing to his cheeks again at the nickname. Seriously, he needs to stop blushing. He feels really girly.

"Listen, there is a small favor I have to ask you..." He starts and ignores the small suggestive noise Wade does. "There is a crime going on somewhere tonight and I need you to take care of it. Of course only if you want to. It's just... I'm a bit injured at the moment and need everything to heal, et cetera."

"S'fine." Wade's immediate response comes from the other line, and Peter almost breaths a sigh of relief. 

"Thank god."

There is an awkward moment of silence, none if them wanting to hang up, before Deadpool breaks it.

"So, you got anything going on tonight?" He asks.

Peter frowns slightly at that. Why would Wade be interested in his personal life?

"Not really, why are you asking?" 

"You mind if I drop by after I clean the crime up? I'll even bring some Mexican food, it's magic when it comes to curing an exhausted body, I swear!" Wade chirps enthusiastically.

Peter's eyes widen and he almost forgets to answer, his brain sloppily processing the situation.

"Sounds great, but it's not really the best time right now." He says awkwardly, turning onto his stomach and playing with the hem of his shirt. He really can't have Wade showing up here at the Avengers Tower. Aaaand He doesn't have experience with rejecting something nicely. "An other time, sure! It's just... not very great right now."

"Aww, don't worry, Spidey, but don't feel safe! You're not escaping The Tacos! I'm gonna drown you in them sooner or later!" The merc chuckles at the other end, but Peter can hear a slight hint of sadness in his voice. 

"See Ya Around!" A click and the familiar static noise follow and Peter hangs up as well (after a few minutes, that is).

Sighing, he places the phone onto his nightstand and buries himself into his pillow. He is so tired and exhausted he can't even bring himself to feel guilty about having burdened Wade with a job that should have actually been his.

He makes a mental note to call him tomorrow and have a chat about how they are going to solve this huge cluster of crimes.

Also, he really needs to snag a few screwdrivers and other mechanic-stuff from Tony's lab tomorrow to fix his web shooters.

His mind coming up with more and more things he still has to do, he falls asleep, peacefully, letting the heavy warmth of sleep embrace him and pull him into the dark abyss of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tunded, Peeps!! <3  
> Thank You for sticking with this fic and giving it such wonderful support!! Love you all ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for more chapters!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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